


Little Secrets

by suchasoftersin



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:56:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchasoftersin/pseuds/suchasoftersin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>let this be our little secret<br/>no one needs to know we're feeling<br/>higher and higher and higher<br/>higher and higher and higher</p><p>but I feel alive, oh, I feel it in me<br/>up and up we keep on climbing<br/>higher and higher and higher<br/>higher and higher and higher</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm brenwrites @ tumblr, I'm reposting my 'fic here as well. thanks.

“Get your hairy one away from my employee.”

“I’m not paying him right now, he can do whatever he wants. Besides, I wouldn’t have to if yours didn’t wear those goddamn pants.”

“Well I am paying him to wear those goddamn pants!”

“What’s the dress code to work in this place, anyway? Hot pants, neon and leather? I’m surprised people don’t get you confused for a sex shop.”

“Have you even looked at your wardrobe? That’s right, you can’t, because it’s all on our fucking floor.”

“Because yours is taking up every drawer we have in the whole entire apartment! I can’t even put them on top of the dressers because those are reserved for your fucking hats. Your hats, Pedro!”

“It’s not my fault that I can actually wear hats and have nice hair, okay. What is that?” Pedro asked, reaching out and gripping Kavinsky’s locks in his fingers. “Gray really doesn’t suit you. You were so cute back in the day.”

If he was mad before, Kavinsky could probably piss glitter with all of the drag queens around. As he glared and prepared to say something - something incredibly nasty that he knew Pedro would probably kick him out of bed for that night - Mehdi decided to pop up in between the two taller men. He blinked once and looked back and forth between them before leaning in and grabbing Kavinsky around the waist and squeezing tight. Kavinsky’s words died on his tongue but he continued to glare at Pedro, who looked on a little jealous, until he wrapped his arms around the smaller man and hugged back. Satisfied, Mehdi pulled away and grinned before walking away while Pedro’s big, sad eyes followed his back.

“When we get home, you’re going to give me at least one of your drawers. And find somewhere else for your fucking hats.” Kavinsky stalked off to find that cute guy from the diner that he saw hanging around earlier.

Xavier shook his head behind the bar, watching as his boss and his roommate stalked off in different directions. It was the same thing almost every night; Kavinsky would come to the club and find Pedro and they’d bicker for a while, separate, and do it all over again. Xavier often wondered what it was like when they were at home, he’d only ever seen them at work and he knew they were constantly fighting then. A drag queen, Britney, made her way over and Xavier looked away from his boss’s back to turn his attention to his work. He smiled at her and reached into the makeshift handy belt he has around his waist, taking a shot glass from a pocket. He filled it with clear liquid and handed it to her and she nodded as a thanks before taking the glass from him.

Britney held the glass to her lips, managing to speak before she downed the liquid, “your boy’s here again”. Xavier already knew who she was talking about, moving his eyes to look at the man at the end of the bar, probably the only completely sober person in the whole place. Xavier knew the man worked at Kavinsky’s diner during the day, he’d seen him on the morning’s he went there for breakfast or saw him leave when he showed up early to do inventory. His head was down and a pencil was flying over his sketchbook, the same thing he did every night he came here. Xavier often wondered what was in that book, but he’d never seen it even when he stood close to the man. 

Britney leaned against the bar, setting the empty glass down and stared at the man as well. Xavier subconsciously filled the glass again, eyes only momentarily leaving the mysterious artist. Britney picks the glass up, swishing the liquid around, before she speaks again, “you should talk to him, he comes here for you”. 

Xavier frowns in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together, and he turns to look at Britney instead. “How do you know that?”

“Please,” Britney laughs, “don’t pretend you don’t see him staring all the time.” Xavier rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it; it’s true, he does know that the man watches him while he works. It seems like a creepy thing to do but it’s almost relaxing, like he knows that the man’s actually watching him and not just his body. 

Britney puts the empty shot glass back on the table, standing up from where she’d been leaning against the bar. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Pixie,” Xavier nodded at the words, turning to look at her as she left. About a foot away, she turned around and motioned to the man at the other end of the bar, “go talk to him!” Xavier only tried to shoo her away with his hands, quieting her before the man actually heard her loud mouth, and it only made her laugh before she disappeared into the mass of people.

For a second, Xavier was afraid that the man had actually heard Britney’s words because he suddenly stood up from his stool, eyes downcast. Xavier stopped worrying when he realized what time it was, they would be closing soon and the man always made sure he left right before the crowd. He didn’t look up as he collected his sketchpad, flipping it closed to hide his art from the world, and picked up the few pens and pencils he always brings along. Before he turned to head for the door, though, he glanced up at Xavier. Instead of turning away, Xavier made sure he caught the man’s eye silently, making both of them stop and stare until something broke the man’s trance. He quickly looked down at the floor once more, long legs making it possible to disappear into the crowd faster than Xavier could keep track of. Xavier vowed he would talk to the man, if not just to cure his curiosity. 

Thomas liked watching Guy while they were DJing, even though he probably should be watching what he was doing as well. To be fair, he never messed up (that badly) and he always caught himself when his gaze lingered for longer than it really should. Maybe it was the way his hair fell over his shoulders and framed his face even though it was viciously tucked behind his ears in haste. Maybe it was the way his fingers moved while he worked, swiftly and easily mashing buttons and spinning and flipping and being oh-so-perfect. Maybe it was the way that he concentrated so hard that he didn’t notice that Thomas was staring at him the whole entire time, even when he managed to be a few seconds off for nearly every song. He was thankful that they would be closing soon, he couldn’t continue pretending to be concentrating on his work anymore. 

Pedro made his way back to Mehdi, who was currently watching Thomas and Guy finish up on the stage from the corner. They had about thirty seconds before he had to make the official announcement and people were already starting to get the hint and filter out the doors, knowing it was getting close to closing time. Some of them stuck around, for what Pedro wasn’t sure because there wasn’t a day where he let them stay after curfew, even when they had events that lasted until nearly six in the morning. Finally, the song ended and he made his way up to the stage as Guy made his way off, not one for all the attention that was about to be drawn to it. Thomas lingered a bit longer before managing to maneuver around Pedro and following the smaller man.

He picked up the mic and turned it on, “alright, it’s closing time. That means that you guys have to get out of here,” loud groans for that one. “You don’t have to go home,” loud cheers for that, “but you have to get the fuck out of here,” and even more groans. Pedro grinned and turned the mic back off before setting it back down where he found it. He stood and watched as the crowd started to head for the doors, some of the drag queens going in groups that looked like giant kindergarten art projects. 

He hopped off of the stage and jumped into the thinning crowd, intending to find Mehdi to ask him for the keys to lock up. You’re the owner, you should have the keys, right? Wrong. At least that’s what Mehdi said when he’d lost them. 10 times. Instead of finding Mehdi, he found an empty bar with absolutely no Xavier behind it. He looked down at the table and realized that it was actually spotless, but still…he was paying the fucker, he could at least stick around and see if anything else needed to be done. Mehdi came out from the back room, keys spinning around his finger from just locking up the storage room. “Mehdi, remind me to hire more employees. Or just better ones.”

Mehdi smirked as he got closer, “I am the best, though, right?”

“Hm,” Pedro hummed as he leaned against the bar, waiting for Thomas and Guy to clean up their area before they left, “you’d be even better if you came home with me tonight.” 

Mehdi mimicked his actions and leaned onto the bar as well, opposite of Pedro as his smirk grew. He tilted his head, as if playing innocent, “now why would I do that?” 

“I could name a few reasons.” Pedro shifted his weight to the other side, body sore from standing so much tonight. His plans were to go home and sleep for half the day before he had to show up for work that night, but plans change easily if someone plans on sharing your bed with you. Pedro has exceptions to his own rules.

“We, um,” Thomas coughed lightly from behind them and Pedro turned his head to see him standing awkwardly a few feet away, bundled up in his coat with Guy tucked behind him. “We’re going home now.” Pedro nodded and Thomas looked back to Guy, whispering something before they both started walking again. As soon as he turned back around, Mehdi raised his brow at him and pushed himself back from the table, swinging the keys around his finger once more. Pedro sighed; it was worth a shot, he’d been trying for months but absolutely nothing he said worked on Mehdi. That didn’t mean he was going to give up, maybe just try a little harder. 

The walk back home wasn’t much of an adventure. Just quiet, save for the calming clicks of their footsteps. A few cars passed, but it was still too early for anyone to be awake and they liked the silence of this time of day. Thomas had managed to reach out for Guy’s hand almost as soon as they had started walking instead of waiting right before they reached their doorstep, though, a feat he’d been working on. They shared a cigarette back and forth, too tired to chain smoke more than one, passing it between them in silence. With their hands laced, their shoulders still brushed as they walked, their bodies gravitating towards each other by instinct. It made Thomas smile when Guy didn’t even pull away after it happened a few times, just leaned his head against his shoulder.

The walk from work usually takes fifteen minutes, but Thomas is sure it takes a little longer due to how tired they are and walking leaned against each other might not be adding to speed. To be fair, he definitely wasn’t complaining when it got them more time to spend together like this. Finally, their run-down building comes into view and Guy lifts his head and all Thomas can think is how his shoulder feels much colder than before. He digs in his pocket for second, searching for the dented key that they’d probably abused much more than should be possible for it to still be in working order. The day that it finally broke or completely decided to stop working, Thomas would have to deal with Guy’s complaining (I told you we needed a new key!) and then the silent treatment for a few hours while he found a way to get them into their apartment without it.

It seemed that almost as soon as they’d shut the door behind them, their exhaustion really felt like it was seeping into their bones. Guy was having trouble sleeping these past few nights; it’d take forever for to him fall asleep and when he finally did, he’d wake up a few hours later to turn in Thomas’ arms and stare at his face until his eyes drifted closed for a while longer. He constantly felt tired now and the other man tried getting him to nap but his body just didn’t want him to, even when they lay in bed and Thomas just held him for hours, he could only sleep for a while - not long enough. He was starting to come to terms with maybe he’d have to deal with constantly feeling like he wanted to curl up and sleep the whole day away but not being able to.

Instead of wasting his time on a failed attempt at sleep tonight, he thought the time would be better spent trying to scrape up some food from what little they had left in their cupboards. It seemed the other man had different intentions, though, because after they kicked off their shoes by the front door, Thomas reached out and grabbed for his hand. Guy smiled and tried to pull his hand away, pointing in the direction of their small kitchen, but he was tugged back. He knitted his brows in confusion, not sure what the man was doing. “Thomas, I’m going to g-”

“No, I don’t care. Come to bed.”

Guy could argue with Thomas. He could pull away and go make some ramen, the only food they ever seemed to have an endless supply of. The other man would stalk off to bed by himself while Guy would sit and watch TV for hours until he finally felt drowsy enough to crawl into bed himself. And even though they were supposed to be mad at each other, Thomas would feel the body heat and subconsciously pull him closer and he would fall asleep and when they woke up, they’d go back to normal. Instead, Guy nodded and took a step closer to Thomas, a sign that he agreed to give up food in favor for another attempt at a sleepless night. At least Thomas was happy.

Their apartment was small, cramped maybe, so it was more like Thomas leading Guy down the hallway by his hand, which neither of them seemed to mind. Their room was probably the messiest room out of the whole apartment, merely because there were clothes strewn across the floor and knick-knacks had collected on dressers. For the most part, though, people would be surprised to learn they were generally very clean people and so was their apartment. Usually. Thomas kicked a pile of clothes out of his way, clearing a path to the bed, and then decided it was a wonderful time to add to mess as he turned to peel off Guy’s shirt. Instead of questioning it, the other man raised his arms obediently above his head, making a noise in the back of his throat when Thomas threw the shirt on top of the pile. He’d have to clean that tomorrow.

Thomas ignored him in favor of kissing him instead, happy to find that Guy was more than willing to kiss him back, even if he had just thrown his favorite shirt onto a pile of dirty clothes. Guy sighed into the kiss, opening his mouth and letting Thomas have complete control. His body relaxed and Thomas slipped his arms around him, pulling him tight against his chest and feeling like he couldn’t get him close enough. Thomas was a little bit of a romantic, when he wanted to be, and right now he felt like he wanted their heartbeats to match up. He knew Guy wouldn’t laugh at him if he said that out loud, but he still didn’t want to - just in case. He might try to use that in a lyric for one of the songs they were trying to make and that’s something nobody wanted on paper.

Without any guidance, the smaller man began to take small steps back, making Thomas follow so that their mouths never parted. Even if he hadn’t have moved, he probably would have been pulled along; Guy’s hands were wrapped around his waist, his fingers spread out over the material of his shirt and dipping into his jeans. His hands rested there, a warm weight that Thomas loved, and sometimes his fingers would dig and add pressure against his hips. Thomas had ended up with multiple bruises because of wandering hands, but he never once complained (even when it was hell to have his belt press against them all day). When the back of Guy’s knees touched the bed, they stopped moving and Thomas appreciated being able to maintain contact without having to move. After a minute, he swiped his tongue across the roof of Thomas’s mouth before pulling away completely with a smirk. Thomas was a grown man and he totally didn’t whine when they lost contact, he merely…showed disapproval. Yes, that’s what it was.

Guy closed his eyes and fell back, Thomas’s hands releasing him when he understood what the man was doing. His back hit the bed and there was a moment where he bounced from the impact, his eyes still closed but a small smile in place. Resisting the urge to reach out and touch him, maybe rake his fingers down the expanse of his chest or grip his thighs, he continued to stare. His eyes roamed over the body laid out in front of him, watching as Guy started to squirm with impatience and insecurity from the wait. Thomas liked to drag things out, the kind of person to savor things, and Guy wasn’t always fond of that. It was something that Thomas usually won, though, having control of when things happened but Guy had a little say in what was going to happen. There were times when Guy sat back and let Thomas have everything and there were times when the older man would do things that surprised the both of them.

It seemed that now would be one of those moments, because instead of crawling onto the bed with him, Thomas got down on his knees. Guy could hear the movements and considered opening his eyes to see what was happening, but suddenly - finally - there were hands grabbing his thighs and his thoughts jumbled together. Thomas’s hands lay big and warm against the top of his thighs, fingers spread out to feel as much as he could and he dug his fingers in to feel the muscle give under his touch. Guy bit his bottom lip, catching it on his teeth, and Thomas knew he wouldn’t have long before the man got impatient with his small touches. His eyes moved up from where he’d been watching his hands, drifting to Guy’s chest, watching it move up and down unevenly. All he really wanted was to touch and to taste, but he held off a little longer as he dipped his head down. Instead of going for skin, he went straight for the zipper of Guy’s jeans, using his teeth to grab at the clasp. Guy could feel the warm breath even through the denim and he sucked in a breath just as Thomas started to slowly pull it down.

In the back of his mind, Thomas was terrified that the zipper would get stuck and then everything would become increasingly awkward but, miraculously, it went smoothly down. When his pants were completely open, he dropped the metal from his mouth and took a second to just breathe while he watched his lover. Guy still had his eyes squeezed shut as he waited, his body taut with anticipation. It was like he was holding his breath while he waited for Thomas to make his next move, his lungs starting to burn and his muscles starting to ache but it felt so good. After a few heavy seconds, the hands moved up his thighs, over his hips and dipping under the fabric there. It seemed Thomas was done with his teasing because instead of wasting time, he started to pull the two layers completely off. Guy didn’t question it and lifted so that they’d come off easier, the sudden cool air feeling nice on his heated skin.

His body was tired, lack of sleep seeping into his bones, but it felt like every nerve was alive, waiting. He could barely think, his mind still for the first time in a long time, his body reacting to the light touches before he could process it. Then Thomas’s mouth was on him and all he could think was warm, warm, warm, so good, warm. And then Thomas swirled his tongue and his mind went blank, his body arching up and he’s pretty sure a sound tumbled out of him as well. The hands returned, holding onto both of his hips to pin him down to the mattress, to keep him from moving. He whimpered and his hands reached out, wanting to grip something, but Thomas was too far away and he had to resort to grabbing fistfulls of the sheets. Either Thomas didn’t notice or didn’t care that Guy was getting close to ripping their bed linen, because one of his hands let up to snake up his lover’s torso. His nails raked down his stomach, feeling the muscles clench under the touch, and Guy felt him smile when his body reacted by trying to arch again but the grip on his middle kept him in place.

It felt like there were burning coals in the pit of his stomach but it felt so good and he wanted more. He wished Thomas would let him move, being held down was slowly driving him crazy when his body was reacting so violently. The hand on his chest moved up, flicking over a nipple and Guy’s head turned to the side and a sound all the way from his throat escaped him. The fire in his gut burned brighter and his hands started to move, regripping the fabric to keep himself grounded. It felt like he was suffocating, hardly able to catch his breath because it kept getting caught when he tried, and still Thomas kept up with the beautiful suction. He bit his lip while his hips continued to fight the hold, trying to rise of their own accord to seek out more friction. Suddenly, the hands and mouth were gone.

Guy’s eyes flew open for the first time, looking down at Thomas who was wiping spit from the corners of his mouth. It felt weird seeing that Thomas still had all of his clothes on while he laid spread out, completely naked. “Thomas, I swear if you don’t finish what you started-” his threat was efficiently cut off by a moan that came tumbling from behind his lips when Thomas leaned down and licked a stripe in the perfect place. When he leaned back, there was a small smirk on his lips, teasing.

“Roll over and sit up. Hands and knees.” Guy’s eyebrows raised at the request, wanting to know why before he did anything. Thomas laughed, “do you want me to keep going or not?” That was all he had to say before Guy was rolling over onto his stomach, hissing from the friction it created on the bed. He hoisted himself onto his hands and knees, finding that it was a little harder said than done when all of his limbs felt like jelly; he wobbled a bit but stayed up. “Good boy.” He could feel Thomas behind him, but he hadn’t heard clothes hitting the floor. Although, there wasn’t much floor for them to drop on, so maybe he threw them onto the pile with his shirt from earlier.

“Ah!” A wet lick cleared up any confusion he had about what was happening. His weight suddenly seemed a lot heavier than before and he couldn’t help it, he dropped down to his elbows and his hair could just barely brush the bed. Behind him, Thomas hummed his approval for the new angle before he continued on with his administrations. A few more licks and Guy’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t get a sound to come out. He was already so close and this added sensation had his nerves coiling around themselves and his whole body was on fire, wanting. “T-Thomas.” He didn’t even know what he wanted to tell him, maybe he just wanted to taste his name on his own tongue, but Thomas answered him with another hum except he could feel this one and holy shit. Thomas did the trick where he wiggled his tongue and suddenly it seemed like his whole world was falling apart at the seams, dots of colors appearing behind his closed eyes.

Thomas didn’t quit, though, his tongue continuing to work and Guy’s body reacted, arching to get away because it was so good, it was painful. Thomas’s hands came up to hold onto Guy’s hips once more to stop his wiggling and Guy whined lowly, not being able to move away. The embers still burning in his stomach flared and the muscles in his stomach clenched, showing aggravation from the sweet torture. “Thomas, can’t…” finally he pulled back, giving one last precise, long lick and released him, something Guy was very thankful for. Not able to hold himself up even on his elbows now, Guy fell onto his side and simply tried to breathe.

“You made a mess.” Thomas’s voice was rough and it made Guy’s groin stir, his eyes moving to look up at his boyfriend. Thomas’s eyes raked over him and if Guy hadn’t been so blown away, he would probably have the decency to blush. After an uneasy second where Thomas’s eyes never left him, he blinked as if snapping himself out of a daze. Wordlessly, he stood up and made his way out of the room, being careful not to step on any of the strewn out clothes. Guy sighed and closed his eyes, for once feeling tired enough that he could finally fall asleep. They didn’t have to go to the club until late, which he was thankful for because it meant he could try to catch up on sleep he’d missed.

“Move over and I’ll change the sheets so we don’t have to sleep on a wet spot.” Guy’s eyes fluttered open to find Thomas hovering over him again with new sheets in his hands. Somewhere on his trip to the hall closet, he’d lost his shirt and the bulge in his jeans was even more obvious now. Obediently, he rolled over onto his back while Thomas set to work taking the sheets off on the dirty side of the bed. It was difficult, but he replaced the corners with the new sheet before looking over at his lover. “Roll over this way so I can get the other side.” Again, he listened and moved over, watching as Thomas stripped the second side of the bed and replaced it. He threw the sheet onto a pile of dirty clothes and reminded himself that he has to do the laundry soon. When he stood back up, Guy grabbed his hand to hold him back.

“I can help with that.” His eyes flickered down to his jeans and back up, still laying naked on their bed. Thomas smiled and it took all he had to turn him down, knowing that the man needed sleep more than anything.

“Soon, but not now. I’ll be a second. You get comfortable.” Guy didn’t put up a fight, only nodded, and Thomas leaned down for a quick kiss. Before he made his way to the bathroom, he stopped to pick their comforter off the floor and draped it over his boyfriend. By the time he came back ten minutes later, Guy was rolled over onto his side and asleep - something he missed seeing over the past few weeks. He knew his trick would work, he just had to make him completely exhausted so he could rest. After throwing his own clothes into the pile he dubbed ‘must clean tomorrow’, he crawled under the covers as well. It made him smile when Guy’s body moved forward, seeking out the body heat, and he wrapped his arm around him to soothe him back to sleep. He definitely wouldn’t mind doing this every morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Gaspard was lucky that he’d learned how to live off a few hours of sleep every night otherwise he’d either be out of a job or his grades would be even worse than they are now. He didn’t plan on attending any kind of college, mainly because he figured he wasn’t cut out for it, but he had been pressured enough to attend free-form art classes. The only reason he actually listened was because they were during the evening and he figured he could just work mornings and be able to manage it. It was working out for a while - then the man at the club happened.

Gaspard doesn’t remember why he’d decided to go to the club for a night, it’s not really his kind of scene, but he’d done it anyway. He spent most of the night trying to avoid getting his toes stepped on with high-heels and maneuvering around intoxicated people for fear of getting the alcohol spilled on him. The bodies pressing against him had made him uncomfortable and warm, but he was sure that he couldn’t be the only one that felt that way. After making himself suffer in the press of bodies long enough, he figured it was time to get out of there before he spontaneously combusted from his own level of awkward. He made his way to the side of the crowd - which wasn’t hard considering he hadn’t dared to go near the middle for fear of what he’d find - then eased up the side until he made it to the front. 

The first time he’d seen him was almost identical to every time he’d seen him since: he was behind the bar, smiling as he moved swiftly to fill glasses with alcohol. His smile was wide, all teeth and happiness, and Gaspard felt like an idiot when he stopped to just stare. He liked the man’s bone structure, his full lips and how his hair curled a little at the ends. Gaspard wondered what the man would look like outside in the sun, proper lighting instead of the dark of the club. Lately, he’d been stuck for inspiration and for the first time in a long time, he wished he’d carried his sketchpad along with him because his hands itched to draw. Afraid to lose his motivation, he left quickly and hoped he still had the same feeling when he got home. He’d spent half of the night drawing, most of them just sketches of the things he remembered about the man, flipping pages and starting over when something else hit him.

He couldn’t stay away now that he had drawn the man, all pencil sketches when he had ideas of watercolors and charcoal planned out in his head. He wanted to try and capture the man’s smile and how his eyes crinkled in the corners, making it obvious that he wasn’t faking it. It was illogical and impossible, but he wished that when you looked at his drawing, you could hear the man’s laugh echoing in your ears. That was his goal when he showed up the next night, a fresh sketchpad in hand and a pocket full of pens that he managed to find around his apartment. He didn’t want to get too close to the man but he did want a decent view, choosing the farthest end of the bar he could.

He was scribbling fast, intent on getting the shape before he actually focused on details, when the bartender made his way over. The only thing Gaspard was thankful for is that you couldn’t tell what the drawing was supposed to be yet, just a bunch of lines that didn’t quite match up. He could feel the man standing above him before he even spoke, making Gaspard glance up from his hunched over position, flushing when he realized that the man’s eyes were on the paper in front of him. It must have looked like even more of a mess from where he stood because not only was it random but he was also looking at it upside down. The man continued looking at it for a second before he moved his eyes up to Gaspard, smiling slightly with his pouty lips.

“Can I get you anything, Mr. Picasso?” His voice was deeper than Gaspard had imagined, but it had a really soothing quality to it even though he had to speak loudly to be heard over the music. Gaspard knew he was teasing him about drawing in the middle of a club, but he couldn’t find the ability to say anything back. Instead, he just shook his head numbly, his mouth staying closed but his eyes stayed on the man, taking in his whole face for the first time at such a small distance. He felt like an idiot but he was sure it would end up a lot worse if he did try to talk, so he stuck with his plan to play mute. 

The man frowned a little bit, looking confused, “okay, but let me know if you change your mind.” Gaspard nodded again even though he definitely knew he didn’t want any alcohol, he was only here to draw the man serving it. He watched the man walk back to the other side of the bar, greeting more customers before he set to work getting their drinks, and Gaspard turned back to his paper. Now he started on the man’s eyes, trying to get the shape right, and the slope of his nose that led into full lips. He almost lost track of the time as he drew, becoming enticed with the way it started to fall together, trying to get every single detail correct. The man’s hair was maybe the hardest, he found, because he couldn’t get the light curls to fall the same way on paper as they did in person. 

It was a habit, showing up at the club every night after class, bringing along his materials so he could sit at the table and try to perfect his drawings. He was thankful that the man whom he drew every night stayed far enough away that he could watch him in secrecy but never knew he was the object of his art. Using pencils and pens cured his addiction to draw this man, but his desire to make something on an even more grand scale was flaring up. There was no way he could bring other materials to the club and he felt better when the man was near, like a calm came over him as he worked. Maybe one day he’d be brave enough to ask for a picture to take home or maybe sneak one, using it as a reference so he could work in peace. Tonight was not that night, Gaspard realized, as he packed up his stuff to head home for a few hours of sleep before work in the morning.

Xavier found it was easier to not sleep at all rather than sleeping and trying to wake himself up a few hours later. He was going to try and talk to that man today, figure out his name and maybe why he drew in that notepad so much. Exhaustion was starting to kick in but he ignored it, planning on eating at the diner while he was there anyway. The sun was already shining this god damn early in the morning, so he figured he could be awake at an ungodly hour as well. He pushed the door open, making the little bell attached to it ring, and made his way inside the diner for the first time in a while.

Everyone looked up to see who had come in (with the exception of Thibaut who never actually cared), all waiting for the breakfast rush to hit them soon, going back to lazing around when they realized who it was. Gaspard, who was sitting in the back room, turned the corner to see who’d come in and froze as soon as he saw Xavier. He stared for a second before quickly dashing back into the room, hiding so that he wouldn’t be seen. He wasn’t sure why he was acting like a school boy but he knew he had to stop it or he’d never get anywhere.

“He’s just a person, you can talk to him,” Gaspard told himself, staring at the couch as he did so, back to the door so he could try and convince himself to do something. Normally, Gaspard is amazing around people, he knows what to say and how to deal with them, but it’s different with this man. Every time Gaspard sees him, he gets starstruck and can only draw his feelings on paper. He wished they would come out of his mouth for once instead. “Okay, you can do this.”

“Gaspard, I appreciate your pep talks to my furniture,” Gaspard turned around on his heel quickly, eyes falling to Kavinsky in the doorway, “but I think you might be scaring them a little bit.” Gaspard’s ears turned pink, hidden underneath his brunette curls, and he tried to clear his throat but he figured that made the situation seem even worse than it already was. Kavinsky watched him struggle for a second before he spoke, “it’s Friday, we have to do inventory.” Afraid of embarrassing himself any further, Gaspard nodded and followed Kavinsky to head to the freezer.

“You know it’s only Friday, right?” Anna spoke as she turned away from her boyfriend, eyeing Xavier, “Benoit doesn’t work the morning shift today.”

Xavier sat a few seats down from them, setting his hands on the bar before he spoke, “who says I didn’t come just to see your beautiful face?” 

Anna glared, turning completely away from Steve so she could seem more intimidating, “ha ha ha, you are so funny.” Steve was smiling, still holding onto Anna’s hand, not interrupting their little conversation because he knew better. Xavier tried to hide his smile, already too amused for the lack of sleep he’d gotten, and barely managed it. “But really, why are you here?”

“Food,” Xavier answered honestly, “you think I’ll make my own food when there’s a woman to do it for me?”

Anna looked like she was about to punch Xavier, but quickly recovered. “Okay,” the tone of voice she had was kind of putting Xavier on edge, “but you’re tipping me extra for this.” Instead of arguing, he rolled his eyes and pretended that’s exactly what he would do. Truth is, he probably wouldn’t even end up paying for his food. “What do you want, then? Make it easy, early morning rush hour is about to happen.”

“Whatever works,” Xavier leaned his weight onto his arms as he spoke, “eggs, I guess. I just need to eat before I pass out.” Anna looked annoyed with his choice but she always looked annoyed, so Xavier didn’t let it bother him. She moved to give Steve a quick kiss before she made her way to the back to start the grill for the first time today. Xavier set his head in his palm, darting his eyes around the diner to see if he could find the mysterious artist but, sadly, didn’t see him. Just his luck, he must have come in on a day the man didn’t work and he couldn’t risk coming back to the diner again, people would pick up that he’s doing something.

“You look like you’re about to fall over,” Steve spoke up for the first time, eyes on Xavier with a smile. Xavier liked Steve well enough, he wasn’t like other heterosexual males that came around here; he could deal with glitter and sex and blatant homosexuality. Xavier figured that if Steve had any problem with anyone here, he probably would have already said something about it and been promptly kicked out. Even closet homophobes could stand to be around a place like this for so long before they snapped, they’d seen it happen before. “Here,” Steve leans forward, pushing his cup of coffee towards Xavier, “you probably need this more than I do.”

Xavier considers refusing but he does feel like coffee would help keep his eyelids from closing by themselves, so he reaches for the cup. It’s lukewarm and there isn’t enough sugar in it, but Xavier isn’t going to start being too picky now so he sips on it anyway. Steve leans closer, voice low, “Anna made it because Seb hasn’t shown up for work yet, don’t tell her she sucks at making coffee.” Xavier smiled into the cup, taking another drink, and maybe he actually likes Steve a little bit more now. 

“We need milk,” Gaspard holds up the gallon that’s just under halfway full, shaking it to prove his point. Kavinsky nods and adds it to the list he’s making so he can remember what he has to order, knowing the fit that Anna will have if he forgets something. Last time, she’d spent the whole day following him around because he’d forgotten cream - she didn’t even need cream to make the food that was ordered, but she did not let him off the hook until he finally got so annoyed, he went out and bought it himself. She usually checked over the final list of what needed to be ordered, adding things they missed after they’d checked the stock.

“Do we have enough sugar?” Kavinsky asks, not looking up from his list as he rereads it. Gaspard sets the milk back down and turns to look over the shelves to find the sugar, spotting two bags of it, one unopened. 

“Yeah,” Gaspard answers back, “we bought extra last time, remember?” Kavinsky does remember but it’s always better to make sure than assume, he can never guess the quantity that Anna goes through materials. He scribbles something on the bottom of the page and Gaspard’s already impatient, maybe annoyed enough to talk to the man he draws in all his notebooks. “Are we done?” Kavinsky doesn’t answer right away, eyes scanning over his notes before he finally nods. Gaspard sighs quietly in relief, side-stepping Kavinsky so he can make his way out. 

He stands on the other side of the door for a second, trying to calm himself because it’s going to be the first time he technically talks to this man. He’s not even sure why he’s fretting over it because he’s been around long enough to know the bartender is actually very nice, he talks with a smile most of the time. His fear is irrational but he can’t help it, he’s not even sure what he’s afraid of. He takes a deep breath and this is it, he’s going to talk to him and try not to stutter or go mute halfway through. He finally turns the corner to head back to the front of the diner and…

and the man’s gone.

Gaspard frowns, looking around the diner to make sure he’s not gone completely crazy but he definitely does not see the man anywhere. Steve’s sitting on a stool at the bar with his phone out, typing something rapidly and passively pushing his hair behind his ears even though it keeps falling right back down. He can just barely see the top of Anna’s head in the window, meaning she’s in the back either cooking or just setting everything up before she actually has to cook. There was a plate and a coffee cup a few seats down from Steve and Gaspard stares at them questioningly. 

“Wanna do your job and get that?” Anna’s appears from around the corner, looking directly at Gaspard. It’s getting late for early morning status and that means that they’ll get slammed with people wanting to eat before work. Every day, she gets even more vicious than normal like she’s stressing - Gaspard figures that has to be a female thing. To appease her and avoid arguments, he grabs the empty plate in one hand and the cup in the other. He sets them near the sink, a small pile already there that Benoit will get when he shows up after school.

The door chimes again, making everyone jump up in expectation, but it’s only Sebastian. It’s like Kavinsky has a sixth sense that’s just used for determining when the younger man has entered the room because he turns the corner, clipboard in hand. As soon as he sees Seb, he stops in the middle of the room with a smirk and Seb stays completely neutral, meeting his eyes. Kavinsky holds the clipboard with one hand, cradling it to his chest so that he doesn’t set it down and accidentally lose it somewhere.

“Care to explain to everyone why you’re so late?” All eyes move to Sebastian now, a little curious because Kavinsky never speaks up whenever Seb is late. Everyone knows they’re harboring a little relationship together but no one has the courage to try and get them to own up to it, instead just dealing with it. The two people you never want to cross are the two that are in a secret relationship - what are the odds, Gaspard muses. 

“Oh, sure,” Sebastian answers, no sarcasm in his voice and now everyone’s even more confused. “So last night-”

“Okay, never mind!” Kavinsky’s voice is sharp and his face has lost a little color, eyes glaring straight at Sebastian. A smirk finally appears on the younger man’s mouth and now everyone feels like they’re completely missing something but no one will dare to ask for an explanation. “Go to work,” he’s looking directly at Seb as he speaks but everyone takes it as their cue to obey as well, looking away from the scene.


	3. Chapter 3

They open in a few hours and, for once, Xavier is there early but mostly because he was tired of pacing his apartment in excitement. It’s Friday and the man usually shows up at the end of the week and he’s counting on him to be there tonight, too. He’d almost gotten there before even Pedro did, coming only five minutes after he unlocked the back door for Mehdi. Pedro had looked at him questioningly, confused why he’d showed up so early because he usually showed up last-minute, seconds before people started arriving. Even though there was technically nothing that had to be done, Xavier tried to find things to do. He used a rag and cleaned off the bar even though it was still clean from the night before. He’d cleaned all the glasses out, putting all the bottles in place just from boredom. 

“Look who finally decided to show up for work today,” Xavier teased, perched up on the bar with his feet hanging off, as Porter made his way in from the back room, never one to walk all the way to the front door if he didn’t have to. Everyone turned their heads as Porter flipped Xavier off, only making the man laugh even more. Porter was the youngest worker, he tended to get most of the teasing.

“I was fucking sick, okay?” Porter had missed work for the past three nights, texting Pedro each time when he found the energy to do something other than sleep. He’d drove his mom insane, whining up the stairs from his own bedroom in the basement, too lazy to really do anything else. At one point, he was sure she told him he was worse than his younger brother, a comment he did not take very well.

“A likely excuse,” Xavier says with a smile, making Porter shake his head. “Hey,” his tone of voice suddenly changes, a little more serious than before, and Porter looks up, “don’t give Benoit anything. Tell him to come to me, it’s easier to monitor him that way.” Porter rolls his eyes and nods because it’s not like he actually gives the kid alcohol, he’s not going to risk losing his job like that. Pedro doesn’t like that the kid hangs around the club, there’s a lot of things the boy can get himself into and no one wants that on their record. Everyone knows he shows up every night he can, sneaks in and hangs around the club while Xavier gives him enough alcohol to get him tipsy. The reason no one tattled that he was there is because no one wants to cross Xavier like that nor end up being “that guy”; the boy didn’t do much harm, anyway, so they just let it be until Pedro noticed. 

“My bar is not a chair, Xavier,” Pedro speaks up as he’s walking across the room towards them, “so get your ass off of it.” Xavier sticks his tongue out but obeys anyway, stretching his legs out and jumping down easily. Mehdi was following close behind, watching everything that Pedro was doing; nothing ever happened without Mehdi’s approval in some way. In the same sense, Pedro probably couldn’t make a lot of the big decisions without consulting Mehdi first because there wasn’t a more honest man. No one crossed Mehdi, they knew he had the best interest at heart of everyone that he met. 

“Where are the DJs?” Xavier asked, not having spotted them come in yet. Usually they were here early, setting up all their stuff so that it was just the way they wanted - they were so OCD about it. Xavier used to try and help them but Guy would get flustered when something wasn’t done by Thomas or himself so he quickly realized he was more harm than help and gave up.

“They’ll be here soon. Thomas already called to tell me they’re on their way.” Pedro stopped by the bar, lingering like he was unsure what to do. Mehdi continued past him and plopped down on a stool, spinning back and forth slowly while he listened. “That guy’s coming in for a shot at being the new bartender,” Pedro explained while he set his hands on the bar. All eyes fell to Xavier while Pedro finished his thought, “Xavier, this is the ninth person this year. You better try to get along with him.”

Xavier rolled his eyes like a teenager being scolded, “yeah, whatever. No promises, though,” Pedro looks like he’s about to ask even more of him so he continues, “you can’t blame me for the last guy, okay? He told me I was going to hell. He kind of deserved the black eye.” Pedro sighs, not going to argue; it’s true, the last guy he hired ended up being a little homophobic as far as his religious views could say. Mehdi usually said something to Xavier whenever he managed to scare off another potential worker, but he didn’t say anything after the incident with the last guy. Pedro still felt bad about it, so he’d asked Xavier to deem this one worthy before he actually hired him. 

He let it drop for now, turning to Porter, “hey kid.” Porter smiled at the acknowledgement before Pedro continued, “it’s good to see you can finally crawl out of bed. Too much partying finally catch up to you?” His smile instantly fell while Pedro’s grew instead.

“I was really sick!” Porter defended himself, hands flying up, feeling attacked by everyone for being gone the past few days. The three men started to laugh at his reaction, knowing it’s the truth but they have to tease him a little bit. Even with being so young, Porter was usually at work on time every day unless something important came up, and even then he was good about letting Pedro know.

“Well since it seems you’re feeling up to it today,” Pedro leans his elbows on the bar, “wanna start cleaning? There’s a reason Xavier is a bartender and not a housewife.” Mehdi covers his mouth with his hand, trying to hide how big his smile is from that comment because he really agrees with it. Porter cracks a smile as well and Xavier looks offended, cuffing Pedro on the arm hard. 

“I would make an amazing housewife, thank you very much!” He retorts, pout firmly in place, “I just need to find a sugar daddy.” Mehdi shakes his head, amused but silent, and Pedro’s still rubbing his arm, already expecting a bruise from Xavier’s hit. He doesn’t look like he can do much damage but everyone has seen the aftermath when he gets angry enough.

“You know what that means?” Porter asks with a smile, making Xavier turn to look at him. “Better find a good corner at night.” That one actually gets Mehdi to laugh, trying to quiet it with his hand but it doesn’t matter because both Porter and Pedro are laughing loud enough to cover his own. Xavier glares and smacks Porter’s arm, too, making a sound from the strength behind it. It only succeeds in making Porter laugh even harder, instantly trying to sooth the burn that’s going up his arm now.

“Don’t you have some cleaning to do?” Xavier taunts, arms crossed now, “like maybe the bathrooms.” It has the desired effect because Porter stops laughing and grimaces instead, the mental picture enough to wash out his happiness. Everyone knows it’s the least favorite job, it’s usually a punishment, and Porter is the one who gets stuck with it most of the time. He was originally hired to clean - mainly because Xavier whined about doing all the cleaning until Pedro got so annoyed, he hired someone to do it - but lately, he’s been helping serve drinks on nights that Xavier can’t handle it all. 

Xavier’s about to speak again, probably to add more detail to the specific chore that no one’s really gotten around to in the past few days, when they hear the door shut. Thomas is walking in, pace slow so that Guy can keep up with him, small smile in place. Guy is half-hidden behind the taller man as usual, a few steps behind him with his eyes averted to the ground. To anyone else, it would almost seem like Guy was mute and Thomas was his translator just because of how little the smaller man talked. It was sometimes weird watching how they communicated, through looks and gestures more often than actual spoken words. Pedro raised one of his hands to lazily wave and Thomas nodded, smiling lightly at him as they made their way to the stage to get set up.

Surprisingly, it’s Mehdi who speaks up after a minute, “they are oddly perfect for each other, are they not? Like one soul in two bodies.” Quietly, they all nod their agreement, watching as Guy moves swiftly around Thomas to start connecting wires and adjusting everything. Thomas stands tall and lanky, almost awkward, as he hands things to Guy and watches him work. They must not feel the eyes on them because Thomas reaches out and brushes his hand across Guy’s arm, moving up until he’s gripping his shoulder. Guy turns just enough to smile up at him and playfully push his arm away, whispering something that’s much too low for anyone but Thomas to hear. It feels like invading a personal moment and everyone finally breaks the gaze, looking away quietly.

When it comes to bartenders that want to work in a gay club, they usually get overly flamboyant men or scary, biker types. Xavier quickly gets fed up with the first option, merely because he has to serve them all night and he doesn’t want another behind the counter as well. Biker types aren’t too bad, the problem is finding one that doesn’t actually care about two guys making out or slowly getting covered in glitter throughout the night. The day that a big, intimidating, heterosexual male that can handle being hit on by drag queens calls for a job, Pedro will hire him on the spot.

So when a random guy with a baseball cap and jeans walks in looking lost, everyone turns their attention to him easily. It’s silent, everyone watching as he sticks his hands deep into his front pockets and looks around curiously, as if he can’t see the other people in the room. Porter and Xavier look at each other, their eyebrows raised in question, before they look back at the man.

Mehdi is the first to speak up, voice falling into his manager kindness, “can I help you?”

“Oh, yeah,” it’s like the man gets plucked out of a daze; he blinks and turns to look at the group. “I’m looking for Pedro.”

Everyone turns to their boss, who stares silently for a second before clearing his throat uneasily. He smiles and moves away from the bar, “well, that would be me. Are you Joel?” The man, Joel, nods and Pedro extends his hand for a handshake. Joel manages to look even more out of place, looking at the outstretched hand for a few seconds before finally digging his own out of his pocket. The handshake is quick and painful to watch and as soon as it’s over, Joel sticks his hand back into his pocket, eyes moving up to Pedro’s face for the first time. 

Pedro swallows before he tries to speak again, “well let me introduce you to everyone. This is Mehdi, he’s the manager,” Mehdi smiles and inclines his head to Joel, who blinks in return. “Porter,” he points to the younger man, who raises his hand to wave awkwardly under the gaze. “Over there are the DJs, Guy and Thomas,” he points to the stage, where both of them men are looking at the newcomer in curiosity. Guy is hiding behind his hair but Thomas nods with a smile before he looks back down at the cord in his hands. “And this,” he slowly turns to Xavier, making sure to send him a warning glare that he’s sure Xavier will ignore, “is Xavier. He’s our main bartender.”

Joel’s eyes flicker over every person easily, landing on Xavier who now has his arms crossed defensively. It’s quiet for a few heavy seconds before Joel finally speaks again, “nice shirt.” All eyes fall to Xavier’s black AC/DC shirt, one they’re all familiar with because he tends to wear it at least once a week. He owns a good handful of clothes, but it’s easier to recycle the ones he likes and is comfortable wearing. 

Xavier nods, motioning towards Joel’s own Nirvana shirt, “you, too.” Joel looks down at his chest, as if checking what shirt he wore today, before sending Xavier a lopsided smile. It almost takes Xavier by surprise but he manages to keep his composure, watching this man that seems to be full of surprises.

“Kurt Cobain was a brilliant man.”

“He was a drug addict,” Xavier throws back and he can just feel Pedro’s eyes burning into his skin, willing him to behave. Porter’s holding his breath, afraid that this will result in some kind of war of words and Mehdi’s watching silently.

“I didn’t say he was a saint,” Joel answers easily, voice even, “just that he was brilliant.”

Xavier stares at Joel silently, face unreadable, and Joel doesn’t turn away from the gaze, staring back. Pedro feels like he should say something, like this is the calm before the storm and he has to find a way to make a shelter before it hits full force. He’s at a loss for words, though, so he stays silent and hopes for the best. 

“Hm,” Xavier’s voice isn’t yelling like expected. He stays quiet for a few more uneasy seconds, making everyone but Joel on edge. Finally, he speaks, “hire him.” He looks at Pedro, who’s eyes are a little wide in shock, before he drops his arms and turns on his heel to make his way to the back room. Joel, not completely understanding what just happened, blinks and moves his eyes to Pedro as well. Porter is openly gawking and Mehdi’s smile has disappeared, both of them looking to Pedro as well. Pedro clears his throat, glancing at his two workers before he turns to look at Joel awkwardly.

“When can you start?” His voice sounds a little off, but Joel doesn’t make a comment about it. Instead, he looks around the empty club quickly before he shrugs.


	4. Chapter 4

Thomas liked that they got free drinks on nights when they worked but Thomas didn’t like that they couldn’t drink so much while they worked. Mehdi set two more glasses on the edge of the tables, being careful of the equipment, as he took the older ones and that had only made two beers the whole night. On nights when they didn’t work, though, they were allowed to have nearly any drink they wanted for free and that was definitely worth it. Once, Xavier had given Guy this little glass full of mixed, pink liquid that he had taken in one gulp and the face he’d made after told Thomas that it wasn’t the most appealing thing. Three of those little pink ones and Guy had completely forgotten that they were in public and tried to unbutton his pants on the middle of the dance floor. They’d just barely made it home in time.  
   
As the song started to come to an end, Guy finally shifted his eyes up to meet Thomas’. If he was surprised to find the man already watching him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he merely tapped the back of his hand, a sign that they’d come up with to indicate a smoke break was needed and he just nodded and turned his head to search for Pedro in the crowd. It only takes a few seconds before his eyes lock on a purple cap that almost looks like it’s crowd surfing through a sea of glitter, coming close to the edge. He watches as the man makes his way through drag queens and shirtless men to find Mehdi and leans down to whisper something to him before finally looking back up at them on stage. Thomas raises his hands quickly to tap the back of his own hand, making eye contact with Pedro, who nods before once again diving back into the crowd to head for the stage.  
   
Outside, the air is kind of cold with a light breeze compared to the body heat that’s trapped inside. It’s kind of nice, though, as Thomas huddles against the wall of the club, towering over Guy to shield him from the wind as they smoke in silence. He pulls his jacket’s sleeves tighter around his arms and inhales deeply before stubbing out the end of the dying cigarette and grabs a new one of the pack; two wouldn’t really hurt. Guy follows his action and takes his own and Thomas lights it for him before slipping the lighter back into his own front pocket of his jeans. Instead of putting his hands awkwardly at his side like he normally does, though, he reaches out for Guy’s and laces their fingers for a few minutes. They should take smoke breaks more often.  
   
Inside the club, Xavier is too busy filling shot glasses to continue fretting over the mysterious artist he plans on finally talking to. Even if he won’t say it out loud, he’s a bit thankful to have Joel helping out; the man agreed to start working tonight, easily jumping into action. It was apparent that he knew what he was doing, only hesitating when he had to learn where everything was behind the bar. Once he got the swing of it, though, he was moving around almost as swifty as Xavier. It seemed like there were more people than usual and Xavier figured there probably were since every one wanted to meet the new guy. Joel was relatively quiet but he took it in stride, answering only when directly spoken to and no more or less.  
   
Porter is sulking somewhere in the crowd or maybe the back room, Xavier isn’t sure which, because Pedro did actually make him clean the bathrooms. He’d complained about it because it was his first day back from being sick, but he ended up doing it anyway.   
   
“Hey, Star,” Xavier leans across the bar to get the attention of a drag queen in heels so high, they made her taller than Xavier standing straight up. She turns, making her dress of sequins catch in the light and getting the attention of all those standing near. Joel is passively eyeing Xavier even as he works on filling glasses - curious or nosy, Xavier isn’t sure which. “Have you seen Benoit?” The drag queen shakes her head with a frown, holding her drink close to her chest to keep from losing it, and Xavier frowns as well. “When you see him, tell him to come see me.” She nods now, disappearing into the crowd a half-second later and Xavier goes back to work.   
   
Xavier hasn’t seen the boy all night, which is odd because he’s usually trying to beg for drinks by now. Sometimes Xavier caves and gives him some, only enough to get him tipsy and they all keep an eye on him the whole night. Pedro tells them repeatedly that Benoit can’t be there but he comes nearly every weekend, the man has to have seen him and not said anything. Xavier thinks he secretly doesn’t mind Benoit being there as long as he doesn’t get in trouble, he just puts on a show of being a boss and saying he’s not allowed. He’d even taken the time to get Kavinsky to hire the boy, so he must have actually liked him and wanted the best for him.  
  
Every one knew about Benoit’s home life, it wasn’t a secret, and it was easy to see when you actually talked to the boy. It wasn’t a completely uncommon situation: he was a gay boy living with a very religious family. His family liked to pretend they were blind to his sexuality, treating him like the heterosexual, awkward boy they wanted him to be when it was the farthest thing from the truth. Sometimes Xavier wanted to waltz into their house and scream that their son was as queer as a three dollar bill and how could they ignore that, they were hurting him.   
  
When Benoit started hanging around the club, it was mostly because he realized his sexuality didn’t matter here. Xavier had seen him standing outside, eyes darting around as he looked at everyone in amazement, eyes big as saucers when he saw drag queens for the first time. It was like Xavier knew right away that he had to take this boy under his wing, he could feel it. Pedro had frowned, watching Xavier talking to the boy, not amused with trying to keep someone under-aged hanging around here. It was a human being, not a dog that they could chain to the fence post outside; they would have to keep an eye on him and keep him out of trouble.   
  
Every one had doubts about letting the boy stay at first. Once they met him, though, they were drawn into his charm, seeing themselves as a teenager reflecting back at them. It didn’t take a scientist to realize what he was going through, feelings starting to surface that he was raised to believe were wrong. He was an only son for a perfect, Christian family; he was expected to do things like go to college, marry a nice girl and have a handful of grandchildren. In reality, he just wanted to finally feel okay in his own skin for once, like it was okay to look and think about boys the way that he did. Now that he’d seen happy, same-sex couples, he was starting to question if maybe it wasn’t him that had a problem with being gay.  
  
The drag queens adopted the boy right away, seeing his interest in everything that they did. When some of the drag queens came early to get ready in the bathroom of the club, they’d let Benoit watch as they applied make up. He tended to ask questions about the process, things that they were usually willing to share and sometimes they gave him tips, too. When the talk amongst everyone turned to men, no one filtered themselves because there were virgin ears around. Benoit’s ears would burn, his face tinting pink as he listened but he always stayed because he was much too curious. Sometimes they would complain about boyfriends, things that men did or didn’t do, and it made Benoit wonder if he would be the same way when he got a boyfriend - if he ever got a boyfriend.   
  
For the first time in his entire life, a boy that he liked maybe liked him back and it was a big deal. He wandered through the club, saying hello to every one when he was stopped, smiling. His phone was in his hand and he kept checking the screen, anticipation building when he didn’t have a text yet. Part of him felt stupid being so excited but it was easily beaten by the bigger part of him that was overjoyed by the mere thought of a possible boyfriend. By the time he finally made it to the bar, he was grinning from ear to ear, having been texting the boy all night.   
  
Xavier spotted him almost as soon as he got close to the bar, finishing the drink he was mixing while Benoit read the text he’d just received. He continued to smile, turning his phone easily so that he could type something back on the keyboard. Xavier moved over to him, stopping on the other side of the bar, eyebrow raised as he waited for Benoit’s attention to turn to him. It took a second, Benoit typing out the message and then quickly flipping his phone back so that he could reread what he’d just sent. He finally looked up when he was satisfied that he hadn’t made a critical error in his text, smiling even bigger at Xavier.  
  
“Hi mama,” he greeted the bartender and all of Xavier’s irritation melted away, he could never stay mad at the kid. Being called someone’s mother had bothered him at first - it was a joke from the drag queens, constantly pointing out how Xavier took care of the boy - but he’d gotten used to it over time. Now Benoit used it more than his actual name and it was probably his name in his phone as well.   
  
Xavier was about to answer when Benoit’s phone started buzzing on the table between them, making both of them look down at the flashing screen. Benoit quickly picked it up and read the screen, smiling at the words that Xavier couldn’t see and just like that, Xavier was forgotten about once more. “Who’re you texting?” Xavier tilted his head towards the phone, curious who was keeping the boy so entertained that he hadn’t tried to get any alcohol yet. From the corner of his eye, he could see Joel watching them but not saying anything.  
  
“Hugo,” Benoit answered, even just the name making him smile wider.  
  
“The kid that Bob kicked out yesterday?” Xavier frowned, knowing it had to be the same kid because before tonight, Benoit had never brought up a boy named Hugo before.   
  
Instantly, Benoit moved his phone away from his face and looked up at Xavier, almost glaring. “He’s really nice!”   
  
“Okay, okay,” Xavier threw his hands up in defense, trying to calm the teenager. “He didn’t look too bad last night.” It was the truth, the boy didn’t actually look like that much of a troublemaker, but that didn’t mean anything; looks could be deceiving. He was tall (well, at least taller than Benoit) with brunette hair that curled a little at the ends. He looked like an awkward teenager, not sure what to do in a place that had alcohol and glitter. Bob wasn’t sure how the kid had managed to squeeze past him but he was easily escorted out once Pedro had spotted him.   
  
“I’m gonna go find Julia,” Benoit’s eyes didn’t leave his phone even as he spoke, making Xavier shake his head. Whoever this kid was, he had an equally awkward teenage boy crushing on him. Bad.  
  
“You have an hour!” Xavier yelled at Benoit’s back as he started to melt back into the crowd. Before he completely disappeared, he threw a thumbs up back towards Xavier and then he was gone. Sighing, Xavier went back to work, catching up on the small line that had started to accumulate for Joel while he was talking.   
  
“Was that your kid?” Joel asked, eyes still on the drink he was pouring.   
  
Xavier glanced over at him before he answered, “for all intents and purposes, yes. Why?” His voice held an edge to it, like he was trying to test Joel’s reaction. Anyone that had a problem with Benoit had a problem with Xavier which would probably result in losing your job at some point.  
  
“Just wonderin’, man.” Joel answered, voice neutral as he handed away a glass full of brown liquid. “He looks young, is he allowed to be here?”  
  
Xavier’s voice held a little venom in it this time, “just play stupid if Pedro asks, you’re new so you wouldn’t know. Leave it alone.” Joel didn’t answer after that and Xavier took it as a good sign, both of them continuing to work around each other.   
  
Across the room, Mehdi was on a search to find his boss, trying to weave through dancing people as swiftly as he could. After he’d covered for Thomas and Guy while they took a smoke break, he’d managed to completely disappear. He checked the bathroom first, only successful in breaking up couples that were thirty seconds from having sex against the wall. Frowning, he made his way to the backroom as he made a mental note to have Porter check the bathrooms more often; the thought of people having sex in the bathroom made Mehdi cringe. It was unsanitary and unsafe, who knows what kinds of things could possibly happen.   
  
He nodded to Joel and Xavier as they worked, squeezing past them to get to the back. It was obvious when he opened the door, the muffled music suddenly becoming loud as it made its way in. Pedro looked up from where he sat behind the desk, eyes scanning over Mehdi quickly before they fell back to the paper in front of him. Porter lay spread out on the couch they managed to squeeze into the small room, eyes shut with his arms behind his head. He shut the door quietly and moved into the room, heading for the couch as well.  
  
“Porter,” he spoke loud, just enough to be heard over the music, as he used his knee to push at Porter’s thigh. After a second, Porter cracked an eye open and tilted his head to look up at Mehdi, showing that he was awake. “You’re on bathroom duty.” His whole face scrunched up, not happy with that wording. Mehdi explained, “just make sure no one’s having sex in there.” Porter’s face only relaxed a little, still grossed out with anything that had to do with the bathroom tonight. He sighed, moving slowly to sit up and Mehdi took a few steps back so that he could get up. Mehdi’s surprised that he didn’t complain at all, just rolling off of the couch and onto his feet.   
  
“Why would they do that, it’s so gross…” Porter mumbled out loud as he made his way out of the room.   
  
He waited for the music to become muffled behind the door before he turned to Pedro, who was still hunched over his desk and reading. “What are you doing?” He asked, not moving to sit down on the now vacant couch.   
  
Pedro continued to scan the paper in front of him, taking a second before he spoke. He ignored the question, “if you wanted to get me alone, you just had to say so, baby.” Even though he wasn’t looking up, Mehdi could see a hint of the smirk pulling on the corners of his mouth. He shook his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, and Pedro added, “just paperwork.”  
  
“What for?” Even as he spoke, he was moving closer, around the desk until he was standing behind Pedro.   
  
“Joel,” he answers honestly and Mehdi nods in understanding even though Pedro can’t see it. Subconsciously, he reaches up and sets his hands on Pedro’s shoulder, starting to massage the sore muscle. He digs his thumbs into the tops of Pedro’s shoulder blades, making the man completely give up on trying to read and tilts his head back instead. Mehdi smiles but doesn’t stop, moving higher onto the back of his neck where he can feel the knot, trying to work it out with his fingers. Pedro makes a noise from the back of his throat, tilting his head to the side for Mehdi to have more room to work the soreness out of his muscles. He feels like a dog being pet behind the ear, his head lolling to the side, but it feels so good that he doesn’t care about looking like an idiot and Mehdi doesn’t seem to mind.   
  
“You’re good with your hands,” Pedro groans when Mehdi hits a sore spot in the junction between his neck and shoulder. Mehdi smiles but doesn’t let up, easing the spot as best as he can with practice and nimble fingers. Pedro’s used to these impromptu massages, never once complaining because Mehdi seems to always recognize when he needs it most. He’s often wondered what it would feel like if Mehdi did more than his just shoulders and back - it’s kind of a goal of his to know someday.   
  
“Okay,” Mehdi’s voice barely audible over the music as he slows down, hands becoming lighter on Pedro’s skin, “go back to work.” His hands move to Pedro’s hair, running his fingers through it gently before he pulls away completely. Pedro lingers in the bliss for a second, muscles relaxed, his head tilted to the side and his eyes lidded. Mehdi makes his way around the desk easily, planning to check on Porter and probably helping him out.   
  
“Mehdi.” He turns around to his name being called, a couple inches from the door, eyes falling on Pedro once more. “Come home with me and I’ll show you how good I can be with my hands, too.” Both of them are smiling at the comment, knowing it’s not going to happen because it never does. Mehdi shakes his head before he opens the door, making his way back out and shutting the door easily behind him. Pedro stares at the door for a second before the smile melts off his face with a sigh, turning back to his paperwork.   
  
A little over an hour later, Benoit managed to make his way up to the bar like he had been told to do. His phone was still in his hand and he was smiling lightly as he made his way to a vacant stool on the far end of the bar. Xavier was chatting to someone when he noticed Benoit, smiling and politely excusing himself to make his way over to the boy instead. He rolled his eyes when he noticed that Benoit’s fingers were moving rapidly over his keyboard, staring down at his phone while Xavier stood in front of him.  
  
Xavier spoke up anyway, hoping that the boy was listening, “I can’t take you home because I have to stay with Joel.” Benoit looked up, confused, sliding his keyboard back in with one hand. He explained, “he’s new and whatever. Pedro would skin me alive if I left him in charge.”   
  
“Who’s taking me home then?”  
  
“Sean and Lokki said they would tonight, you should thank them. They’re probably outside waiting for you.”   
  
Sean and Lokki were friends of Xavier, a couple that he was proud to say he played matchmaker for. Sean was a frequent visiter at the club and managed to befriend the bartender and Lokki was his dance teacher when he was going through a phase. As payback for taking so much time to teach him specifically, Xavier offered free drinks if Lokki came to the club for a night. He was a little surprised when Lokki actually took him up on it and showed up one night, smiling awkwardly and looking around in amazement while Xavier handed him a drink. It was like a magnet pulled Sean to Lokki, making his way to the bar and standing beside him while he waited for a refill of his own drink. Xavier took the opportunity to introduce them, watching how they smiled at each other and Sean leaned in close to Lokki’s ear in order to be heard over the music. The rest is history.  
  
Benoit stands up from the stool, frowning a little because he expected Xavier to drive him home tonight, and turns to head outside to find the couple. He knows them through Xavier, too, only having actually seen them at the club a few times; they seemed nice enough.   
  
“Be nice at your thing tomorrow!” Xavier calls to his back and Benoit pretends he didn’t hear him, making his way to the front door.    
  
He finds the couple in the front of the club easily, he can follow Lokki’s voice even though it’s pretty loud outside with the music and everyone standing around talking. He makes his way over quietly, unnoticed by anyone but Bob, who nods to him with a small smile. His phone goes off when he gets close, making him stop a few paces away from the couple to check it. He quickly sends Hugo a text that he’s on his way home, promising to text him when he gets there and until he falls asleep.  
  
“Why does everyone like her?” Lokki’s deep into a rant, hands flailing as he enforces his point to Sean, “she didn’t do anything and she got everything handed to her. She shouldn’t even be a princess!” Sean has a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, watching Lokki’s face the whole time. “I hate Cinderella. She’s so spoiled.” He crosses his arms and Benoit’s surprised when he suddenly turns to look at him because he’d assumed they didn’t know he was standing there. “Don’t you agree?”  
  
Benoit stares up at the man, not sure what he should say to that. Sean’s the one who breaks the silence, chuckling, “don’t answer that. Come on.” He grabs Lokki’s hand, who seems to be pouting now, and turns around to start walking to the parking lot. Benoit follows silently, feeling awkward and out of place with the older couple but not sure what to do about it. Finding their car in the packed parking lot is easy enough, Sean unlocking the door as they all climb in. Lokki hasn’t stopped talking the whole time but he has quit his rant about Disney princesses, changing subjects so fast that Benoit really couldn’t keep up. Finally, they pull away from the club and soon they’re on their way to Benoit’s house.  
  
Benoit’s silent in the back seat, sitting in the middle, save for his phone occasionally going off when he got a text. Lokki and Sean had their hands laced between them as Lokki chatted away to fill the silence, making Sean smile as he watched the road. Occasionally, he would say something that would make Lokki giggle and change the subject completely. They looked really happy together and Benoit was jealous and awed at the same time, they were exactly what he wanted when he was older. Instantly, he thought of Hugo and his face heated up, making him smile down at the phone in his hands.  
  
“What do you do when a boy likes you back?”  
  
Lokki stops talking as soon as Benoit speaks, looking over to Sean before he turns around to look at the boy instead. Benoit is looking down at his phone in his lap, his face a little pink, as he waits silently for an answer. Lokki opens his mouth like he’s about to speak but closes it a second later, lost for words for the first time. Once he realizes that he’s not sure what to say, he sits up straighter and turns back to Sean, looking at the side of his face as he drives.   
  
They stop at a red light and Sean’s the one who breaks the silence, looking in the rear-view mirror to see Benoit, “is he cute?” Benoit can feel the eyes on him so he resists the urge to look up, pretending his hands in his lap are much more interesting. He nods, though, hoping that the man sees it so that he doesn’t have to speak again. “Ooh. Well-”  
  
He’s cut off by Lokki, “you could just kiss him like this!” He leans over the armrest between them, laying a sloppy, wet kiss on Sean’s cheek that makes his boyfriend grimace at the feeling. He tries to lightly push Lokki away, trying to keep the smile off his face because he’s trying to look annoyed. With a smile, Lokki finally pulls away with a wet smacking noise, proud of himself. Sean instantly leans down to wipe his cheek on the shoulder of his shirt, finding it gross and cute because it’s something incredibly Lokki to do. “Boys like that. At least Sean does.” Sean glances up at the mirror once more, meeting Benoit’s eyes and shakes his head with wide eyes before the light turns green. The reaction makes Benoit laugh, feeling a little better but still very confused.   
  
It’s not until they get to Benoit’s house - thanks to directions from the back seat when they got close - that he gets a serious answer to his question. He gets out of the car and he knows his parents are watching from the window, so he tries to hurry and shuffle out of the car before it gets worse. His parents are used to Xavier driving him home and they don’t even like him, it’s the way that he “acts homosexual” that bothers them. Benoit’s never pointed out that him and Xavier are similar in many ways, rather just bite his tongue than have that argument. Sean calls his name when he’s only a few steps from the car, making him stop and turn around. Lokki’s window is rolled down and Sean’s leaning over the armrest to talk to him, Lokki watching him as well.  
  
“It’s really cheesy and probably not what you want to hear,” Sean tells him with a smile, “but just be yourself. If he’s really worth it, he’ll like you for you.” Benoit’s not sure what to say but his chest feels a little lighter and he hopes Sean’s right. He smiles and nods, turning back around to head inside before his parents take it upon themselves to come get him and meet Sean and Lokki.   
  
“Bye Benoit!” Lokki yells out the window right as he’s opening the door, making him smile even more.  
  
When he turns around, his mother’s standing a few feet away with her arms crossed and light scowl. Benoit gulps because he knows she probably heard Lokki yelling to him and now she’s going to assume things and ask too many questions that he doesn’t want to answer. It doesn’t take long for her to speak, “who was that?”  
  
Benoit stares down at his feet as he takes his shoes off by the door, trying to avoid the conversation that’s about to happen. “Sean and Lokki.”  
  
“I thought that one drove you home.” She doesn’t use Xavier’s name, opting to use vague descriptions when she’s talking about him. Benoit bites his tongue when he really wants to scream; Xavier is one of the most important people in his life, why do his parents have to dislike him just because he’s gay.   
  
“He couldn’t tonight,” he doesn’t elaborate any further than that, “so Sean did instead.” He moves past her, eyes still downcast, to make his way upstairs to his room. His mom’s going to say something to try and create more tension, so he talks before she can, “I have to be up early tomorrow, I’m going to bed.” He doesn’t stop to say goodnight and his mom doesn’t expect him to, watching him start up the stairs.  
  
“You could have stayed home and went to sleep early,” his mom yells at his back and he ignores her, rolling his eyes because he knows she can’t see it. His sister’s door is open but she’s fast asleep, her pink, princess room seeming bright even in the darkness. All he hopes for right now is that she doesn’t end up being as hateful as his parents when she’s older. He walks past the doorway and down the hall to his own room, shutting his door behind him. He throws his phone on the bed before he strips down to his boxers, tossing his clothes in the direction of the hamper but not caring if they actually get there.  
  
Before he lays down, he picks up his phone and sends Hugo another text:  
  
 _Im home. Gettn in bed. U?_  
  
He pulls back the covers and crawls into bed, the sheets cool and it makes goosebumps rise on his skin. Trying to get warm, he wiggles a little bit before he stops to set his phone next to his pillow by his head. Right as he closes his eyes, it vibrates.  
  
 _Thinkin of u._  
  
He feels stupid because his stomach gets butterflies and he’s just staring at the screen, rereading the words over and over. He’s not sure what to send back, afraid he’ll make even more of an idiot of himself. His phone vibrates in his hand once more.  
  
 _Was that stupid 2 say? Im sry._  
  
 _No. Its fine. What r u thinkin?_  
  
He’s still smiling but he feels a little nervous now, hoping he seems cool enough. Even though he’s used to staying up so much later on weekends, he is starting to get tired. Hugo texts back before he can fall asleep and he cracks his eyes open to check the text.  
  
 _Wanna hang out 2morow?_  
  
Benoit really wants to, but…  
  
 _Cant. Sunday?_


	5. Chapter 5

Mehdi kept up a routine all night, making rounds from the stage to the front door to the bathroom and to the back room. Pedro didn’t show up until the end of the night, reappearing from the back room just to make sure everything went smoothly while they closed. He apologized for not being around on Joel’s first night and asked him to finish signing some papers before he left for home. Other than Joel being there for the first night, not a lot had changed - especially since Porter was finally back at work. Xavier felt comfortable again..

Xavier had been busy all night, barely having the time to take smoke breaks once he’d discovered that Joel smoked, too. They took turns, letting Porter cover whichever one of them happened to be gone at the moment. Even though they were packed, Xavier noticed that they were missing one person all night. The mysterious artist that visited wasn’t there, his usual spot empty for the first time in at least a week and a half. Xavier felt disheartened by this considering that he wasn’t at work this morning, either. He hoped something didn’t happen to the man, that’d probably be the worst timing ever.

Gaspard was mad. Mad with himself, mad with his teacher, mad with his whole damn class because the one night he had plans to do something, he ended up having to stay late. He’d been passively working on a project for the past couple weeks, his interest fading little by little when he discovered he enjoyed drawing the bartender at the club more. His teacher - he had every one call him Sam because he didn’t believe in formalities in art - had patience with him through most of it but it started to wear thin. When he’d come in to class that night, a few minutes early, Sam had pulled him aside in the near-empty room and explained that if he wanted a grade on the project he’d been slacking on, it would have to be done by tomorrow. 

Class was until ten, like normal, and as soon as Sam let them go, Gaspard was shimmying around the room to collect materials to finish his project. He’d set to work right away, perched on a stool with the canvas in front of him and a whole line of paints spread out around him. The first fifteen minutes were spent staring at the canvas, the little work he’d done previously, trying to come up with what he wanted to do. Sam had sat silently in the back, working on something in a sketchbook of his own while he waited for Gaspard to finish. 

It wasn’t his best work by far but he finally did enough that he could deal with turning it in and not wanting to bash his head into a wall. Sam looked it over once, quietly studying it and normally you would get nervous if a teacher did that but Gaspard can barely find it in himself to care. His project must be enough for a grade because Sam nods, signaling that he’s able to finally leave even though his plans for the night are already ruined. Even though he’s annoyed with his teacher, he’s more annoyed with himself for not having it done before so this whole situation could have been avoided. With a quick goodbye, he’s already making his way out of of the building and to his car with plans to try and fix his night. 

The good thing about his apartment is how close it is to everything, even if it’s a shitty one that only has secondhand furniture. The diner is a decent 15 minutes from his apartment, meaning the club is as well so he decides on swinging by and seeing if there’s a chance the bartender is still there. The drive is quiet because it almost seems too dark to be playing music, like Gaspard is going to ruin the peace. The part of town that he’s headed to is still lit up for the most part, occasional groups of people walking on the sidewalk and laughing a little too loudly. Gaspard hasn’t been out with friends for a long time - mainly because he lacks friends now that he’s started classes and got the job at the diner. He absently wonders if the bartender goes out when he’s not at work. 

He’s disappointed when he finally gets to the club, already knowing it’s closed just by how many open parking spots there are. Sighing, he pulls into a spot with the intentions of turning around and that’s when he notices. The bartender is walking a few feet ahead of him, heading towards a car parked close to the back door of the club. The first thing Gaspard notices is the tight black jeans he’s wearing, a Rolling Stones shirt clinging to his chest with a little sweat. His dark hair is fluffy and wavy but presses against his forehead and cheeks from working all night. 

Gaspard doesn’t know what possesses him to do it but it’s probably how clouded his mind is from forcing himself to finish that project. He rolls down the window and leans forward, mind blank about what he’s about to do. “Hey!” 

Normally Xavier doesn’t respond to such a general call for attention but it’s so quiet that he turns around anyway. His eyes momentarily search for whoever yelled and he’s surprised when he notices the car, the artist leaning halfway out of the window and looking straight at him. Xavier feels embarrassed for being called out like this, unprepared, and it’s not a feeling he’s used to so he just does his best to ignore it. He smirks and turns all the way around, back to his own car, and cocks his head to the side in question. He’s never properly talked to this man before but it’s not fair to say that they don’t know each other, since they technically see each other every day. Xavier knows that he works at the diner but he doesn’t know his name, he knows that he draws a lot but he doesn’t know what of. Then he knows smaller things like that the man doesn’t drink much and when he does, it’s usually just simple beer or sometimes a whiskey and he’s also very quiet. 

Gaspard is not usually the most social person, so there’s a knot in his gut but he still really wants to try. “Hey.” Smooth Gaspard, real fucking smooth.

Xavier raises his eyebrow, his smirk growing, “hey.” 

Gaspard swallows, trying to come up with words that would make a decent conversation instead of burying himself deeper in his hole. He doesn’t know where the sudden determination comes from but he decides that he’s already gotten this far so he might as well keep going. “Do you wanna…” he fades off awkwardly. The man is still watching him intently so he clears his throat and then tries again, “wanna get some food? You know, um, together?” His voice gets a little higher near the end and he really hopes the man didn’t notice. He wants to hit himself in the head for all of this, he is way too awkward to talk to anyone. 

Xavier considers the offer for a second. It’s roughly 2 am and this man that sits at the bar silently every night is asking him out for food. He’s also stumbling around his words all nervous-like, never really making eye contact when he speaks. He figures that it’s a decent idea, the man’s probably a wine and dine type so Xavier can get food before anything can happen - and looking at the way the man’s reacting, something definitely will happen. He nods and starts walking towards the car, “sure, any place in mind?”

Gaspard can’t believe that this is happening right now, the bartender is actually talking to him and they’re going to get food together. He feels like a schoolgirl with a stupid crush and he quickly tries to swallow those feelings, it’ll only cause him to make an even bigger fool of himself. He can’t even find his voice until the man is closer, walking around the front of the car to the passenger seat. Gaspard quickly tries to throw all of his mess on the seat into the back, some trash and spare jackets that he’s yet to clean. The man doesn’t seem to mind as he tries to clean up, opening the door and watching for a second before he moves to sit down. Gaspard has spent many nights only a few feet away from this man, sitting on a bar stool, but now he’s even more afraid because it seems like an even more intimate place inside his car.

“Do you mind, um, McDonalds?” He asks hesitantly, wishing he had somewhere more creative but it’s two in the morning and there aren’t many options right now. As an afterthought, he adds, “I’m Gaspard, by the way.”

Xavier can’t help but send a half smile to the man - Gaspard - as he turns his head to look at him. The way that he stumbles over his words makes Xavier want to listen to him talk even more. He wipes his cheek with the shoulder of his shirt, knowing he has a light sheen of sweat sitting on his skin. He drops his voice as best as he can, knowing he’s very good at it, “that’s fine, Gaspard.” The way that Gaspard tenses when he says his name makes Xavier’s smile even wider, knowing he’s getting his way already. He decides it’s only fair that he adds, “Xavier.”

Gaspard feels his ears burning but he tries to hide it, afraid of what happens if he lets his emotions take over. “Xavier,” he repeats, wanting to taste the name on his tongue and the other man only smiles back. He spends a second just looking at him before he manages to snap his attention away, focusing his attention on pulling out of the parking lot. There’s a McDonalds a few blocks over, the one that Gaspard goes to after he leaves the club more often than not.

It’s surprisingly quiet on the drive there, Xavier keeps switching between looking at the side of Gaspard’s face and looking out the window. The only time they speak again is when Gaspard asks Xavier what he wants to eat, right before he pulls into the drive-thru. They both agree on double cheeseburgers, fries and a Coke, something that makes both of them smile. Once they get the food, Gaspard passes the drinks to Xavier to hold and sets the bag in his lap so he can pull away from the window. The parking lot is nearly empty so Gaspard just pulls into one of the many empty spaces, shutting the car off. Xavier hands him his cup without saying anything, his own wedged between his legs, as he digs through the bag to split their food.

It’s warm with summer air so Gaspard rolls down the windows after a few minutes, enjoying the way that it’s nice without being stuffy. Xavier is picking at his fries, trying to eat them before they get cold and gross, and Gaspard’s eating his own burger. It’s quiet but not awkward, peaceful as they both eat, sitting in the parking lot in the dark with a streetlamp as the only light. Gaspard is the first one to speak, breaking the silence in-between bites, “why does Benoit call you his mother?”

Xavier jams a fry into his mouth and wonders why everyone seems so curious about Benoit tonight. He won’t snap at Gaspard for it, though, because it’s an innocent question and he doesn’t know. “It’s a joke, really. It’s kind of a long story,” he answers before he eats a few more greasy fries. Gaspard is curious but he doesn’t press it, he can tell that Xavier doesn’t want to talk about it. He takes another bite from his burger and worries a little, not sure what to talk about that is deemed as good conversation. 

It’s Xavier who speaks up next, “why do you hang out at a club if you don’t drink or hook up?” His bluntness has Gaspard’s ears in flames all over again, only slightly thankful that his face wasn’t red as well. His mouth feels dry so he brings the cup to his mouth, sipping from the straw and Xavier doesn’t seem to care, finishing off his fries. 

His answer feels cheesy even before it leaves his mouth but he tries anyway, “I don’t really need to drink and I don’t really, uh,” his eyes dash flicker around his messy, cramped car before he focuses on his own hands, “hook up.” 

Xavier frowns at the words, his curiosity only growing because none of it makes sense. He understands that some people have their things, they believe in love and dating and all of that, but why would you constantly hang out at a bar, then? He doesn’t have to ask again, only sends Gaspard a look that explains it all with his head slightly cocked to the side and his eyes slanted. Gaspard visibly swallows and then he’s trying to find words to explain without going into detail and seeming like a creep, “well, I…I’m an artist. It inspires me, you know?” He wrinkles his nose and mutters to himself, like he’s forgotten that Xavier is there for a second, “that sounds like a terrible pick up line.”

Xavier starts to chuckle because he’s overly amused with the word choice; it does sound like he’s trying to pick someone up. He wonders if it’s ever actually worked but then he throws it away because Gaspard doesn’t seem like the type to actually try and use pick up lines unless he’s joking. Although surely someone has fallen for the man’s awkward charm without the cheesy lines? He decides not to press it but asks instead, “well, what do you draw? I’ve always wondered.”

“Oh,” it comes out breathless, a little unintentional, and Gaspard looks like he’s concentrating very hard on nothing. His eyes are locked in space, not really seeing, because he’s thinking too hard to try and come up with an answer that sounds less creepy than well I draw you, of course. Xavier cocks an eyebrow, just watching and not quite understanding the internal struggle that his question has brought upon, as he reaches for his Coke to take a sip. Gaspard blinks himself out of his daze, looking over at Xavier and then quickly back down again, “um. I guess I just draw whatever inspires me?” It sounds more like a question than an answer and Gaspard’s sure that makes the situation worse. 

The corners of Xavier’s mouth turn up and Gaspard is worried that he’ll try to continue asking him about his art, so he tries to wrack his brain for a decent question. He finally manages to spit out, “what music do you like?”

Xavier’s licking his fingers clean, making a wet noise with each one, and he takes his time before he answers. Gaspard really tries not to look, his eyes trying to find a single spot to set on but nothing works and he finds himself glancing anyway. Xavier catches it, of course, and he smirks as he pulls his thumb away from his lips; horny men are just too easy, he thinks. “Van Halen, AC/DC, Nirvana…” he drifts off but his eyes never leave Gaspard, “and I have a sore spot for Michael Jackson.” He expects the last one to surprise the artist but it doesn’t, he simply stays quiet but his eyes flicker down to Xavier’s “BAD” tattoo on the outside of his arm. This guy must pay more attention than he gave him credit for…artists probably have that kind of skill for detail, he decides. “What about you, then? What music do you like?”

Gaspard tears his eyes away from the tattoo and finally looks back up at Xavier’s face, blinking. Now that he thinks about it, it was a stupid question because he knows a good amount of Xavier’s taste in music just from the t-shirts that he wears when he works every night. He clears his throat and then curses himself for sounding even more awkward, “not bad, I approve. I’ll really only throw in Metallica and Led Zeppelin.” Xavier approves instantly, nodding slightly, and proud that he wasn’t going to fuck a guy that listened to the pop shit on the radio these days. 

It becomes silent once more, both of them focusing on the food in front of them instead. Gaspard’s nearly finished his burger while Xavier’s starting on his, but he’s catching up easily. It’s nice, the breeze coming in through the open windows, and there’s sounds of cars in the distance. A few feet away, a streetlamp flickers on and off and Gaspard watches it without interest. It’s dingy and casts a yellow light on everything, making the cement look piss-stained but that’s McDonald’s for you. 

It’s Xavier who breaks the silence again, mouth half full of his burger, “so are you fucking anyone?”

Gaspard nearly chokes on the last bite he just took, somehow managing to swallow before he does. His eyes are wide and his face is flushed and he feels like he wants to disappear. He doesn’t think that he’s ever met someone so blunt in his entire life and it makes him incredibly nervous. His whole chest feels white-scarlet and warm and he struggles to get his own tongue to work. Xavier is unphased by this, continuing to eat with eyes on him as he waits. He clears his throat and that somehow makes the silence even more awkward, so he quickly tries to speak to fill it. “I’m not…seeing anyone.”

Xavier pulls a face like he just licked a lemon and shakes his head just barely, covering it with another bite. This man really doesn’t seem like any fun; the more that they talk he can tell they really are opposites. Xavier hasn’t had a ‘boyfriend’ since high school, just guys that he shared his bed with for a while. He wasn’t good with guys that wanted relationships or something, it was just too much work. He figures this guy’s good enough, though, nervous as all hell and he can work with that. Maybe he’s never had really good sex and he sticks with one guy instead - Xavier could change that. 

Gaspard feels like maybe he’s said something wrong so he tries to cover it by moving on, “so, um…what do you do when you’re not at work?”

That’s how they spend the next hour talking in the parking lot. Xavier tells him that most of his time is spent with the people he works with and Benoit. He tells him how he and Porter have a special night to hang out, that they talk and watch movies or play cards. He tells him about Mehdi, whom he seems to like a lot and Gaspard can see why, the man seems very nice. He tells him that Benoit is usually over at his apartment just to get away from his own parents. He tells him that he loves to dance but he’s not very good at it and that he’s actually surprisingly talented with make-up because of his high school years and the experience of drag queens. 

Gaspard’s not much of a talker but somehow he finds himself opening up to Xavier just as easily. He equals it and says that sometimes he hangs out with Sebastian because they both like art. He tells him that his parents hated that he was “wasting his time” taking art classes instead of getting a real job. He tells him that he doesn’t have many friends anymore because class and work are eating up his time now. Somehow that ends in him explaining that he hasn’t had a boyfriend in months and he’s sure that his last didn’t even count because it was short-lived. He even tells him that he does like girls but he finds that they’re beautiful but he’s never quite attracted to their personalities at all. 

Xavier frowns when Gaspard talks about boyfriends because it reminds him that he’s working with the mushy type. He’s determined, though, because almost everything he’s heard about Gaspard so far he has liked. That’s incredibly rare for him because he usually gets annoyed with people after the first five minutes, ten if they’re lucky. Maybe Gaspard would be someone he would call more than once, maybe meet him when he got off work if he was good enough. Time has passed easily because it’s been filled with their talking, their food long gone. Gaspard apologizes for not keeping track of the time and Xavier shakes his head, really not bothered by it. Either way, he’s starting the car and then pulling out of the parking lot to head back to Xavier’s car. 

Xavier looks down at his phone and catches the clock: 3:28. He frowns and looks up at Gaspard, “ah, it is late. I’m sorry for keeping you up, you have work.”

Gaspard turns his head to send Xavier a small smile before his eyes are back on the road. “No, I don’t work today.” Xavier mumbles an “oh” but doesn’t say anything else, looking away. He wants to ask how that’s possible because he wasn’t at work yesterday morning, either, but he bites his tongue so he doesn’t. It’s better if Gaspard didn’t know that Xavier was looking for him, things worked out in the end anyway. 

Xavier’s car is the only one in the parking lot now because of the late hour and Gaspard pulls up next to it. He doesn’t turn his car off since they’re not going to stay and chat anymore, just turns his head to look at the bartender. The light here is even worse than at McDonalds, most of the light bulbs have broken and have yet to get fixed. Normally it’s really eerie to try and walk in the dark like this but Xavier’s long since grown used to, his shifts always ending after the sun is down and sometimes starting after sunset, too. He turns his head to look at the painter, pulling his jacket closer like he’s preparing to set out on a mission.

“Thanks for the food,” Xavier pulls the door handle and feels the rush of cool air as it opens. Gaspard only waves his thanks off with a shake of his head, watching as Xavier climbs out of the car. He’s nervous but he knows he has to try something before he’s gone, has to show him that he wants this to happen again. Come on, Gaspard, you can do this…

“Hey!” He says it a little too forcefully and he winces but Xavier leans back down to look at him curiously. He’s got his hand braced on the hood of the car, the other holding the door open and Gaspard can just make out his face in the low light. “Do you, um, wanna do this again sometime?” 

Xavier sends him a crooked smile and a “sure, sure” and then he’s standing up straight to slam the door shut. Gaspard watches him walk around the hood of his car to get to his own, sighing with a stupid smile on his face. Xavier winks overdramatically before he pulls away, leaving the parking lot and turning left. It takes Gaspard a few minutes to pull out of the parking lot, too, and then he’s headed home feeling just a little bit better about his sucky night.

It takes Xavier half the ride home before he realizes that he just agreed to another mini-date and when he does, he slams his hands on the steering wheel and yells at himself for going soft for the painter. When they meet again, which he’s sure they will, he’s going to get him pinned against the nearest object and show him that fuck buddies are just as good as boyfriends, if not better.


	6. Chapter 6

Pedro’s not even a bit tired by the time he makes it home but that’s not completely uncommon considering lately he’s been going to sleep after Kavinsky leaves for work just so his early morning bitching doesn’t wake him up. He’s messing around with his phone while he’s walking up the stairs to their apartment, nearly tripping on the last one because he’s not looking. He manages not to fall or drop his phone and he’s proud of himself for it, stopping to glare at that stupid last step. Once he’s sure that he’s taught it a lesson about trying to be a dick and tripping people for no fucking reason, he starts back down the hall to their apartment.

Their apartment is a small one, a decent sized living room that connects openly to their kitchen, the change in carpet to tile the only real hint. They have a bathroom and a hall closet that’s filled with random shit that they should probably get rid of. The last room is their room and it’s just big enough to squeeze a dresser, a small table and a mattress in. Everything is split down the middle and they each have a respective side that they stick to, never crossing the invisible line. Pedro sleeps on the left, pressed against the wall, on his stomach until he wakes up and has to crawl over Kavinsky’s side to go to the bathroom. Kavinsky has the right and he usually sleeps facing outside, his back to Pedro’s side and the blanket up to his chin. It’s the same way with the couch, dresser drawers, the closet and even the cups and plates.

He doesn’t even have to dig around for his key because Kavinsky’s good about keeping it unlocked for him. Their neighbors are a bunch of potheads that only come knocking when they’re high and looking for something to do, so they really only lock it when they’re both gone. He’s only a little surprised when he opens the door to find almost all of the lights still on and noise coming from the kitchen. Pocketing his phone, he toes his shoes off next to the door because he knows if he doesn’t Kavinsky will just have a fit about dirtying the carpet even though it’s already shit. Now clad in only socks, he pads across the carpet to peek into the kitchen and finds Kavinsky with a bowl, whisking it furiously. 

“Are you making a cake?” Kavinsky snaps around at the sound of Pedro’s voice, obviously not having heard the door open or close behind him. He looks Pedro up and down before sharply nodding and looking down at the bowl in his hands. He slows to wipe at all the batter that’s gone up the sides, scraping it off to get it back in the mix. Then he goes back to work, switching sides so that he doesn’t make his arm completely sore. 

Pedro frowns as he watches, knowing that this means bad news. Kavinsky likes to cook - that’s why he owns a diner, really - but baking is a whole different story. He’s good at it, could probably make desserts for very rich people and make a lot of money, but it’s a treat when he does because it’s rare. The only thing that can get Kavinsky to bake so much is that he’s upset and it gives him something to focus on. Pedro remembers the day that he came home to literally so many cookies that they didn’t all fit on the counters. That was the morning after he confessed to sleeping with Sebastian for the first time.

“What kind?” Pedro asks as he moves to sit at the little table they have crammed between the kitchen and living room. He knows he better get ready for this, every pastry comes with a story. 

“German Chocolate with a coconut-pecan icing,” Kavinsky answers without looking up, back turned towards him. He sets the bowl down and starts rummaging through the cupboards, everything clattering together in the process. After a little bit, he manages to pull out two round, silver pans with little dents from being used so much. Once he sets them on the counter, he speaks again, “I went to the store and bought the stuff. I got that cereal you like, too.” Pedro’s eyebrows shoot up and now he’s really concerned because Kavinsky never willingly gets him anything. 

Kavinsky isn’t the type of person to openly talk about things and that’s more or less why he bakes his feelings into something. Pedro knows that just mentioning that he even does that will make it worse, he’ll just deny it and bake until they have enough to share with the neighbors. The way to get him to open up is to make him feel like it’s not a big deal and it won’t be thrown in his face. Pedro decides to initiate conversation and see if it just comes out naturally before his kitchen becomes an official bakery.

“We got that new guy set up tonight.” Kavinsky hums that he’s listening as he starts to evenly distribute the batter between the two pans. Pedro feels really awkward just trying to get him to talk but he knows it has to be done. Despite what people may think, Pedro really does care for Kavinsky’s well-being and that includes not letting him bake himself stupid. “Xavier likes him, isn’t that amazing?” Kavinsky nods because he knows that Pedro’s watching, using a spoon to start and smooth the batter down so there’s no air bubbles and it’s flat. Pedro sets his elbow on the table and then leans his head on his hand, “Mehdi likes him, too.”

That’s what finally gets Kavinsky’s attention and he turns around halfway through smoothing over the batter. He tilts his head to the side with a half-glare, lips quirked downwards. Pedro grins back widely and plays innocent even though he already knows, “what?” Kavinsky rolls his eyes and turns back to his pans, picking up the spoon now that it looks smooth. He puts the spoon in his mouth, sucking off the batter while he moves to turn the oven on to preheat it. Pedro waits patiently, watching, before Kavinsky finally turns around and leans back against the counter. He pops the spoon out of his mouth with a lewd noise that makes Pedro wrinkle his nose.

“Why don’t you ever just give up on him?” Pedro doesn’t have to ask who he means because it’s obvious. He’s been pursuing Mehdi even before he hired him, back when he was just a regular every night. It was a joke (“why don’t we hire you since you’re already here every night and work harder than my staff?”) and it didn’t take long for him to fall into the position; people respected him and he was kind but stern. 

“Probably because he’ll never give me a chance.” Pedro thinks that maybe he had a little opportunity to sweep him off his feet during that little bit of time right before he hired him. Now that he’s working for him, though, Mehdi’s said that dating isn’t a good idea in case something happens. It doesn’t mean that Pedro’s stopped trying because being closer to him every day makes him realize he never wants to give up. He realizes that Mehdi might end up just being the one that got away.

Kavinsky snorts as he drops the spoon into the sink, rolling his eyes a bit because he knows Pedro’s thoughts on Mehdi even if he doesn’t quite understand it. He thought it was just a fuck at first; a cute guy that presented himself a challenge by not falling for it. It didn’t take that long for him to realize that wasn’t the case by the way Pedro looked at him, like a kicked puppy that’s determined to do good. 

Pedro decides to change the subject, “maybe you should have bought a bakery instead of a diner.” Kavinsky glares lightly but doesn’t say anything about the comment. His glare easily faulters and then he seemingly becomes very interested in his nails. Pedro can tell that he keeps swallowing shallowly, his Adams apple bobbing just enough, and he knows that means it’s about to happen. He pretends not to be that interested because that’s the easiest way to get him to talk; he looks bored, his cheek pressed against his palm as the silence overtakes them. 

Kavinsky clears his throat and it sounds oddly loud in the overall quiet room, just the weird sound of the tv buzzing from the neighbors next to them and soft footsteps of the couple that lives above them. Pedro rolls his eyes up to look at his face - which looks a little uneasy - and he waits for it. Kavinsky makes sure not to look up even though he can feel the eyes on him now, suddenly taking an interest in his nails and he begins to pick at them. It’s a few seconds before he asks, “have you noticed that I haven’t been…doing anything lately?”

Pedro frowns and takes a second to think about it, trying to piece together everything that Kavinsky’s been doing lately and nothing seems to strike him as out of the ordinary. Nothing’s changed. “Uh,” he starts, feeling stupid because he doesn’t understand, “no? You go to work, bother me at the club and then go over to Sebastian’s before you do the walk of shame to the shower at the asscrack of dawn.”

“Exactly!” Kavinsky raises his voice, shouting like it’s obvious why he’s upset, choosing to ignore all of the cracks that Pedro’s taken at him in his statement. When Pedro doesn’t seem as concerned as he obviously is, he gets even more flustered and points a finger at him like he’s threatening him to be upset about this apparent disaster in his life. He tries again, “I go to work and then I go to Sebastian’s!”

“That’s what I just said,” Pedro interjects and Kavinsky sends him a glare for it. People typically back down when they meet Kavinsky’s attitude but Pedro’s lived with him long enough to test the waters; where others back down, Pedro rises to the challenge.

“You don’t think that’s a little…” Kavinsky struggles to find the word that he’s looking for to describe this better. He grabs at air before he spits out, “odd?”

“Well you are odd, I just don’t question the things you do anymore.” 

“Pedro,” Kavinsky growls and it only makes the older man smile lopsidedly back at him. He crosses his arms over his chest and lets out a breath, “I don’t become routine with guys.” 

Then it all falls into place for Pedro; the baking and the cereal and the reason why Kavinsky keeps avoiding his eyes unless he’s threatening him, it’s all because he’s scared. Scared of becoming comfortable with someone who isn’t Pedro and terrified of even considering the word “love”. He’s unsure now that it’s come to his attention how close he’s becoming with Sebastian, suddenly at a crossroads from what he knows and what he wants. Pedro wants to ease him into the right direction because he’s never talked to Sebastian much - he’s a quiet one - but he must be good to catch Kavinsky’s blind eye. Pedro decides that if he’s enough to freak out over then he must be worth it. 

“Kav, you do routine with me and we work just fine,” he starts, hoping it’s enough, “maybe it’s not so bad to have a routine with someone else. I haven’t seen you mope in a while so that boy’s doing something right.” Kavinsky looks torn but at a loss for words so Pedro takes the hint to let him think it over now. He pushes back from the table and stands up, “I’m going to bed now. If I wake up and our house is a bakery, I will seriously kick your ass, okay?” He doesn’t wait for an answer because he doesn’t expect one so he heads back to their room and hopes that he got through to him about his mostly-irrational fear.


	7. Chapter 7

Thomas is thankful that he'd found an effective way to put Guy to sleep, the rest turning out to be a natural cure to all of his recent anxiety. He's discovered that when Guy's eyes droop, a handjob and kisses calm him enough to get him to nap until dinner. Nothing else changes outside of that, they still have a ramen diet, shitty cable tv and cuddle close to avoid the chill at night. He gets up early in the morning to piss, peeling Guy off of him, and pads to the bathroom in the dark and is thankful he doesn't trip on anything. Maybe it's the cold tile on his bare feet or how much sleep he's been getting lately but when he's done, he realizes how awake he is now. He walks down the hall, passing their bedroom door, and heads for the livingroom instead. 

They have a ratty couch that they got for free, an ugly maroon floral thing that they drape a sheet over to avoid looking at it. There's a wrinkled spot where they sit - because they sit on the same side, Guy pressed between Thomas's legs - and there's a little stain on the floor in front of it. He forgets which stain it is because if someone takes the time to notice, there's lots of little stains on their abused floor. They have a little tv, just big enough for today's economy, but it only has terrible cable shows that they barely watch. They had scraped up enough money to get a DVD player and they spent all of their time watching movies they borrowed from everyone else. Their most prized possessions are their music set up, cords and knobs all over the shelves of their apartment. When they can't sleep, they put blankets over the windows to avoid the sun while they mess around and try to make some kind of beat they both like.

It's around lunch time (which counts as morning for them, of course, morning is whenever you wake up, Thomas reasons) and that means all the soap operas are on right now. Against his better judgement, he flicks through the few channels they do have anyway and finds soap operas, infomercials and finally lands on some stupid cartoon. For grown men, they do watch too many cartoons for it to be normal. There’s ones that Guy prefers, usually the late night vintage ones that are on at the ass-crack of dawn, the ones he’s become attached to when he can’t sleep. Thomas spends more time watching the day shows, drowning himself in talk shows that he doesn’t even really care about because it’s all they can afford most days. Thomas probably knows more odds and ends about celeberties than he'd like to admit. 

He sits there, only partially listening as yet another ‘up and coming star’ is being interviewed. He cared for having any sort of noise fill the silent apartment, more so than he cared for the answers being given on the talk show, all of which sounded identical to the answers Thomas had heard in plenty of interviews already. He scratches his nose idly as he continues to watch, reaching over to turn down the volume slightly when the audience cheers a little too loudly at one point. He doesn’t want to wake up Guy, considering that Thomas knew he needed the rest. It happened to be a moot point, however, when Thomas’ ears pick up on the noise of padded, sock-clad feet trudging down the hall. Before he can turn around to greet him, Thomas feels Guy’s arms drape over his shoulders, tangled hair and a rough, unshaven cheek nuzzle against his neck.

“Breakfast?” Guy asks softly, voice rugged and sleepy and familar, right by his ear. Thomas smiles before he turns his head to press a chaste kiss to the skin he can reach from the odd angle. Guy hums and turns his head so their lips meet and even though it’s short, they both pull away with small smiles. Thomas looks over Guy’s face, his own hands lingering on Guy’s around his shoulders, and his chest feels light just looking at him. His hair’s fluffy and sticking up in weird places, shoved off his forehead from where Guy’s run his hands through it. His eyes are still half-closed with sleep and his face is pink, his skin warm from being under the blankets. Thomas thinks he never wants anyone else to see Guy like this besides him. 

Thomas rubs his palms on Guy’s forearm, “go brush your teeth and I’ll see what I can make.” Guy ponders it for a moment before he nods and then he’s pushing himself off of his boyfriend, his bones popping in the process. He stretches then, putting his hands up above his head and arching his back and Thomas stands to do the same. Guy smiles lightly, like a content cat, and then he shuffles down the hallway to their cramped, little bathroom. They have a stained bathtub, more yellow than white even with how many times they tried scrubbing it with bleach, but it's enough for them to both squeeze into so they usually don't complain about it.

Thomas stands there for a moment, watching as his boyfriend walks off before smiling to himself and heading to the kitchen. His hands move to their own accord, reaching for various cabinets to pull out the appropriate ingredients to make some pancakes from scratch, Guy’s favorite. As he was mixing the batter, Thomas let his mind ponder through different ideas of what he and Guy could do with their day. Maybe they could finally finish up one of the songs they had been working on, Thomas was excited to play it after all. Or maybe they could waste their day away curled up on the couch, watching whatever Sunday special HBO had to offer. Thomas’ thoughts were interrupted by a loud, dragged out yawn sounding from the direction of the bathroom. Chuckling to himself lightly as he continued to stir, Thomas figured that they would probably be spending their day with the latter decision. 

Across the town, Kavinsky's starting to think about why he’s decided this is a good idea, showing up at Sebastian’s apartment in the middle of the day. He blames it on the lack of sleep, he'd spent all of the early morning tossing and turning on his side of the bed until Pedro, quite literally, had a fit about the noise. It’s quiet, all the other tenants are at work or at the store or doing some god-awful thing that people with proper jobs do. He digs out the key and opens the door, stashing it back in his front pocket and tries not to think about what that means, either. The house is dark, there’s blankets over the windows to keep it that way, but Kavinsky doesn’t need to see to make his way to the back bedroom. He doesn't think about how he has Sebastian's apartment memorized, knows where every side of a table will snag him if he walks too close, because the idea of becoming too comfortable with someone else makes him uneasy. The door’s open (because it's never closed) and it’s even darker in here, the only source coming from the little space where light is pushing through the thick blankets stapled above the windows.

Kavinsky blinks for a second, trying to get used to the low lighting, and shuffles to get his shoes off without bending over to untie them. They clatter next to Seb’s little desk shoved up awkwardly against the wall and the younger man stirs in the bed, rolling over onto his back. Vincent doesn’t attempt to be quiet, hands undoing the button and zip on his jeans and letting them fall around his feet before he steps out of them and moves to the bed. He sets his palms on the bed and slides them up until he reaches Sebastian’s legs, fingers spread out over the blanket above his thighs. 

There’s a feeling bubbling up in Kavinsky’s chest and it weighs him down, makes him drop all of his weight on his arms heavily. This draws the younger man’s attention officially and he opens his eyes and blinks even though it’s still dark in the room, he can only see half of Kavinsky’s face but it’s enough. Sebastian reaches out for him, wraps a hand around his wrist and tilts his head without saying anything but it’s enough. Kavinsky swallows the words forming on his tongue and instead, crawls up the bed and Sebastian moves just enough for them to fit snuggly. He lays down heavily and Sebastian hesitates for a second before he presses against his side, laying a hand right over Kavinsky’s heart and sighing - light, but definitely enough to be noticed. Kavinsky stares at the ceiling until he falls asleep, trying not to think about how this feels like enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Xavier is way too tired to be up by noon but he knows he has to. Benoit went to a church picnic the day before to get out of church this morning (a deal he somehow managed to talk his parents into) and now he has plans to see Hugo. The thought made Xavier grimace but he knew that Benoit would be going through this dating phase soon. He just hoped that it’d be a lot later on in life, maybe after he could afford his own car since his parents weren’t getting him one. He usually rode the bus or bummed rides off of anyone he could find, hence how Xavier got roped into driving him to his little date at an ungodly hour.

Hugo turned out to be a star striker for their football team, something surprising considering he showed up at a gay club downtown. Apparently they had practice and he had invited Benoit along so they could hang out together after it. As far as Xavier knew, Benoit didn’t like sports but it must be worth suffering through it for this boy (although it wouldn’t be considered suffering to a gay teenage boy because there’s fit boys running around in shorts). He shakes his head and makes his way to his car, not even bothered to put clothes on that aren’t loose pajama pants and a hoodie. Even with sunglasses, it’s too bright and Xavier isn’t used to seeing the sun anymore, hasn’t been for years.

Benoit comes bounding out of the house as soon as he pulls into the driveway, barely remembering to lock the door behind him. Xavier almost rolls his eyes but he knows what it’s like to have crushes in high school, too - thank god that’s over with, he thinks. Before he even reaches the car, he stops a few feet away and holds his arms out to display himself. Xavier gives him a once-over but doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be looking for. He’s in jeans and a dark blue shirt, hoodie thrown over his arm just in case and all of it looks like it came from the local mall. Xavier shrugs and Benoit looks exasperated, running the rest of the way to the car.

“I bought new jeans!” Benoit explains as he climbs into the front seat. He starts to babble then, “they said that guys like tight jeans and I didn’t have any, so-”

“Hey,” Xavier interrupts with a wave of his finger, “do not let any boy into those tight jeans.” Benoit turns pink and opens his mouth but Xavier continues, “also don’t take any advice from anyone at the club, god knows they’re only trying to get laid.”

“Xavier!” Benoit spits out, horrified enough to use his real name for the first time in weeks. He shifts awkwardly and grabs for the seat belt, “I won’t, okay. I just want him to like me.”

Xavier sighs at a loss for words and starts to pull out of the driveway, eyes on the mirror. It’s quiet for a few seconds until he finds the courage to continue, “if he’s worth your time, he’ll like you no matter what you’re wearing, okay?” That seems to be enough on the subject because Benoit nods and then changes the subject, spending the rest of the ride babbling away.

Xavier drives them to Hugo’s school, a rival of Benoit’s, and he can see the anxiety building on the boy’s face. He’s not sure what to say, not exactly an expert on this particular subject himself. His experience involved liking an older man, being heartbroken and then swearing that it would never happen again. He knows he doesn’t want Benoit to end up the same way, though, because the boy deserves all of those cliche romantic things that happen in movies. One day he will be going to Benoit’s over-the-top wedding, probably very bitter and alone but with a history of better sex than anyone else there.

Benoit looks anxious when they pull into the parking lot, squirming around in his seat. He pulls out his phone and sends Hugo a text to let him know that he’s arrived. His phone vibrates seconds later and he looks up at Xavier while he reaches for the door handle. Benoit sends him an uneasy smile before he clambers out of the car, looking like he’s going to his deathbed.

Xavier finds his voice before Benoit scurries away, “good luck.” He wants to smack himself for not saying something better but then Benoit sends him a smile, a real smile, and shuts the door. Hugo appears then from around the building, jogging towards them in a pair of shorts that look almost too big for him. Benoit perks up as soon as he notices him, sends Xavier a little smile and then starts to walk towards Hugo as he slows down from his run. Xavier watches for a second, notices the small smile they share when they’re finally face to face, and then he sighs and starts the car again. He decides that a nap is in order before he goes to work later, he needs to be rested for his plans with Gaspard.

Benoit feels like an idiot, smiling up at Hugo as he sticks his phone into his back pocket so it’s out of the way. Hugo’s got this huge sideways grin as he pushes his hair out of his face, slightly out of breath. Benoit’s stomach flips and he realizes how different it is to see him face to face than spend all day texting instead and he thinks he likes it a lot better. They watch as Xavier drives away and then Hugo coughs a bit and motions towards the way he’d come from, “are you ready?” Benoit nods and Hugo turns to start walking, making sure to walk slow enough that they’re side-by-side.

“Um,” Hugo speaks up awkwardly and Benoit looks at the side of his face, “the guys aren’t really that mature, so I apologize for that now.”

“Oh,” Benoit answers and moves his eyes back to his feet, “do they know that you, um...do they know about me?”

Hugo risks a look at Benoit while his head is down but the question makes him feel even more out of place, ashamed almost that he has to ask that. “Yeah,” he watches Benoit’s face give away his surprise, “they know about me, I kind of confessed that boys are just as hot as girls and so. Yeah.” He doesn’t answer the second question because he doesn’t even know his relationship with Benoit now. He figures they’re friends, considering how often they’ve been talking lately, just friends that are hanging out at a football practice. Hugo would be a liar if he didn’t wish this went somewhere more after this, Benoit is the only person he’s ever met that’s caught his attention so fast. There’s a few openly gay boys at his school and Hugo has caught himself looking at them a few times, there’s a lot of girls that eye him as well, but he’s never been interested.

When they round the corner, Benoit notices a dozen or so boys spread out over the field, gathered in groups and sitting in small circles. They’re laughing and a few have their phones in their laps but most look up once they catch sight of them walking towards them. Benoit becomes nervous then, afraid because he’s just a gay boy surrounded by jocks, but then they all go back to their own business once they realize it’s just Hugo. He lets out a breath and turns his head to see Hugo looking at him, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. Hugo looks at him for a second before he finds his voice, “you can sit on the bleachers if you want.” He looks nervous for a second before he adds, “or you can come sit closer. Cody, the coach’s son, sits on the sideline so I’m pretty sure that you can, too.”

“Sure.” It’s as easy as that. Benoit likes to think that Hugo smiles a bit wider when he agrees to sit close. They stop near the sidelines right as a man wearing a baseball cap starts walking towards them, a preteen hovering behind him with a bag filled with footballs. Hugo hesitates, reaches a hand towards him and then quickly retracts it before he turns to run over to the rest of his team. Benoit frowns and watches him go, noticing how the other boys easily accept him into their conversation. He watches as the coach starts talking, using terms that Benoit’s a little ashamed to admit he doesn’t quite understand and the boy sets his bag down near his father. 

Benoit feels out of place when he sits a foot or so away from the boy, sitting on the sidelines in the grass, but then the boy just takes out his phone and starts to play a game and that makes it easier. The time passes like that, Benoit watches as they run laps and then start doing drills, a lot of passing the ball back and forth. All of the boys talk in-between everything, yelling things to eachother as they go, and Hugo looks over at Benoit every once in a while. The boys are starting to complain about being tired and sore and hungry when it finally ends, dragging their feet while they collect all of the footballs to put back in the bag that Cody’s holding. They reach for water bottles that they brought, a few dumping them over their face, and that’s when they start taking their shirts off. It’s not like Benoit’s never seen a shirtless boy before but he can’t help but stare a little as they pat eachother on the back and make their way to the parking lot to head home. 

Hugo appears in front of him, an amused smile on his face, and Benoit can barely hold back the blood from rushing to his face. “Yeah,” Hugo comments as he moves closer and then sits next to Benoit with their knees brushing, “you get used to seeing that around here.” Benoit wants to say he wasn’t staring but he really was and he’s been caught so he bites his tongue instead. It’s quiet for a second and then Hugo speaks up, “I’m sorry, it’s pretty boring just watching us.”

“No, I liked it.” He’s being honest, too, he didn’t actually get bored while he watched them practice. He decides to be honest again and admits, “I don’t really understand football that much. I know that you use your feet and you get the ball in the other team’s goal and that’s about it.”

“Well that’s all you really need to know,” Hugo grins and then shifts towards him a little more, “I can teach you, if you want.”

“Sure,” Benoit smiles, “why not.”

That’s how they spend the next hour talking about football, Hugo explaining what strikers, midfielders, defenders and keepers are. He explains tackles and penalty kicks, offsides and hat tricks. Somewhere along the line, they end up on their backs and they’re squinting against the sunlight while Hugo talks with his hands in the air. By the end of it, Benoit’s head is reeling as he tries to keep up with it all but he thinks he’s doing pretty well considering. It turns into Hugo telling him about his favorite players, about the other players on his team as well, and they’re gravitating towards eachother. They’re pressed together from thigh to ribs and it’s nice, Benoit thinks, as he watches Hugo talk with lidded eyes.

“I dunno, I think I like Liverpool because of the history but we have a lot of Chelsea fans on our team so it’s kind of hard to have a different opinion.” Benoit makes a noncommittal sound to show that he’s paying attention and shifts even closer, trying to get comfortable as he lolls his head to the side towards Hugo. The other boy notices and it falls silent for a second as they just breathe, then Hugo continues. “A few like ManU but not since Ronaldo left,” Benoit nearly jerks away when suddenly there’s a hand running over his own, fingertips light. He lays still and after a few seconds, Hugo takes a hold of his hand and then they’re lacing their fingers together and it makes Benoit’s heart beat fast. He smiles and presses his face to Hugo’s shoulder and the boy just keeps talking; Benoit thinks he could get used to listening to the sound of his voice.


End file.
